Intoxication
by Jessibelle811
Summary: Sofia is splashed with an infatuation potion and goes to Cedric for the cure. Romance and angst ensure. Sofia/Cedric.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I do not own anything about Sofia the First. That's all Disney. This is for entertainment purposes and nobody pays me a thing. Darn It! This is a Cedric/Sofia pairing with Sofia being of proper, legal age and all. I will never ever write a romantic story about these two in which Sofia is not at least 18 years old.

I went back and re-edited the entire story from the beginning. The new chapter are easily distinguished by the song lyrics before each chapter.

* * *

Intoxication: Chapter One

* * *

 _Walk on broken glass, make my way through fire_  
 _These are the things I would do for love_  
 _Farewell peace of mind, kiss goodbye to reason_  
 _Up is down, the impossible occurs each day_

 _This intoxication thrills me_  
 _I only pray it doesn't kill me_

 _Never want to fly_  
 _Never want to leave_  
 _Never want to say what you mean to me_  
 _Never want to run_  
 _Frightened to believe_  
 _You're the best thing about me_

-Savage Garden, _The Best Thing_

* * *

"Dump me two days before Valentine's day," she muttered to herself, "I'll show him."

Princess Amber of Enchancia had many fine qualities, but accepting defeat gracefully was not among her talents. Her considerable breadth for petty revenge was at the fore of her mind as she cut ingredients and crushed dried herbs.

She double checked the instructions from a book at her elbow while stirring the contents of a small cauldron. Potion making had never been a strong suit of hers and she talked to herself aloud to make sure every step was executed to perfection.

"Just a pinch of Heatstring buds. Sixteen turns to the right, and perfect!"

The potion turned rose pink with wisps of shimmering steam floating into the air. She took a deep breath. The air smelled faintly of raspberries and chocolate, just as Madame Du Bois' Big Book of Love Spells said it should.

A smile stretched across her face. Prince Hugo would meet his match today once she poured a few drops of Fountain D'engouement in his punch. He'd fall all over himself begging her to take him back. And when he did, then she'd crush him, just as he had done to her. She'd make him beg before rejecting him in front of the entire kingdom at tonight's ball. Her eyes narrowed in anticipated victory.

All that remained was to pour the potion carefully into a bottle. She lifted the cooled cauldron with both hands, balancing the heavy weight with her forearms.

Careful. Careful.

"Amber!"

Sofia rushed into the room, relieved to have finally found the object of her pursuit. Amber had been missing all morning, and their parents charged Sofia with the task of finding her. Today Enchancia played host to the annual Valentine's Day Gala, which entailed not only the namesake party that evening, but a whole day of festivities. Sofia was anxious to try all the treats and games, more so now that she'd exhausted half her morning searching the whole castle. Considering Amber planned almost every detail about the day, she should have been standing front and center of it all.

Sofia's exuberant shout startled her sister, who had chosen this little used room at the far end of the castle specifically for its seclusion. Amber spun on her heels, surprised and embarrassed to be caught. The contents of the heavy cauldron sloshed, threatening to tip her over. Sofia reached out to steadying hand. The potion sloshed forward with accelerated momentum and spilled over the rim all down the front of Sofia's lavender dress.

"Ugh!" She looked down to see her chest and gown covered in a pink syrupy substance.

"Damn it, Sofia!" Amber set the empty cauldron down with a thump. "Look what you made me do."

Sofia's eyebrows rose with interest. Amber never swore; she claimed it unbecoming of a princess.

"Amber, what is this stuff?"

Ire cooled by rising embarrassment, Amber twisted her fingers together nervously. "It's a potion."

"I can see that." Sofia cautiously touched the tacky liquid. Her dress was ruined. "But what is it for?"

"Um, ere," Amber tried to think up an excuse why she would be here, secreted away, brewing a mysterious potion. "Alright, it's an infatuation potion. I made it for Hugo."

The whole story spilled out. The break up right before the most romantic day of the year, Amber's humiliation, and her plan to seek revenge against her former beau.

Sofia listened, incredulous. If she believed for a second that Amber actual cared for Hugo and was genuinely hurt by his rejection, then she'd have some sympathy for her sister's ill conceived plan. Amber's pride that had been hurt, nothing more.

"You made a love potion? And you planned to use it? Do you have any idea how terrible and dishonest that is?"

Amber's shoulders pulled up around her ears. Despite her false bravado, she cared deeply for Sofia and wished her sister to have a good view of her. Still, she remained stubbornly defensive. "It's an infatuation potion, not a love potion. I wasn't going to make Hugo love me, just want me enough that it would really hurt when I rejected him."

"Alright," Sofia took a deep breath, seeing no reason to continue arguing. "Let's start with what exactly is in this potion."

"I don't know," Amber shrugged. "A little Heatstring, some Lover's Knot, Cerulean Waters. What does it matter? It's ruined now."

Sofia tried to keep her temper in check, reminding herself that Amber didn't know nearly as much about potions and their power. "It matters," she spoke slowly, "because I'm covered in this stuff and some potions are administered topically."

"Huh?"

"Absorbed through the skin."

"Oh. Oh!" Amber cried, finally catching up to the seriousness of the situation. "Well, let's see here."

She picked up the spell book and laid it upon the table for both of them to read. Sofia ran her finger over the lines on the page.

"It says here Fountain D'engouement is intended to create warm feelings of affection coupled with lustful desire and lowered inhibitions. The effects are temporary depending on dosage." She skimmed further down. "Ah, here! Fountain D'engouement can be administered orally or absorbed through the dermis."

"The what?"

"It means skin. Dosage," Sofia continued to read, "Administer one to two drop per eight ounces of liquid or directly to the skin for one hour of infatuation."

Amber cringed and shied away as the meaning became clear.

"One to two drops. Drops! I'm covered in this stuff!" Sofia wailed in dismay.

"Let's not panic," Amber put her hand out in a placating gesture. "I've never been that great at potion making. Perhaps it won't even work. Here it says you should feel a warm, tingling sensation. Do you feel warm and tingly?"

Sofia contemplated. "No, I feel cold and wet."

"Well, there you go." Amber smiled.

Sofia rolled her eyes, still unconvinced. "Grab that book and come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"To my room. I need to wash this off and change. And we need to be certain your potion making skills are as bad as you think."

"Hey!"

Sofia emerged from her private bath, scrubbed red from scourging her skin with hot water. She donned a flowing pink dress with satin rosettes on the bodice. Normally she shied away from pink because it clashed with her amulet, but the loose material, tied at the back with a sash, was one of the few ensembles she could put on without the help of a maid. She didn't need Violet questioning exactly how she'd ruined her first dress.

Amber sat at the vanity, examining Madame Du Bois' book. "How do you feel?"

Sofia considered for a moment, testing the edges of her senses. "I feel fine. Better now that I got that gunk off."

"No tingles?"

"Nope. But we need to be sure. Let me see that book."

"I've already read everything about it. It says the effects will wear off after the appropriate time depending on dosage or until the object of your desire has been obtained, whatever that means."

"Look," Sofia pointed, reading over Amber's shoulder. "It says there's an antidote. 'If an overdose occurs, or if potion abatement is required, brew and administered the counter potion. For instruction see volume II'."

She picked up the book, leafing through the pages before looking all around, as if another volume would magically appear. "Where's Volume II?"

"How should I know?" Amber huffed.

"Well, where did you get this book?"

"Some traveling trader in the village. They had a whole display for Valentine's Day."

"Did they have the second volume?"

"I don't know!" Amber threw her hands up, becoming thoroughly annoyed with the whole affair. "I wasn't looking for volume II."

"Great," Sofia whined, "Now we have to go to the village."

"But the party," Amber wailed.

"This is a little more important, Amber."

"Come on, Sofia. I'm not spending all day traipsing around the dingy village to find some cart which probably isn't even there anymore. Besides," she gestured out the window, "The carriages from Tangu and Wei-Ling have already arrived. All our friends will be here soon," she pouted. "The stupid potion didn't even work anyway."

"We don't know that." Sofia chewed her lip in indecision. She wanted to believe that Amber was right, but feared what would happen if she were wrong. "What if I get to the ball tonight an start ...," she blushed, unable to find a word bad enough to describe the embarrassing picture in her head. "Hanging all over every man in the kingdom. We should go to the village."

Amber's shoulders sank, before she suddenly brightened. "Wait a minute. Let's not be too hasty. Let's at least test it out to see if there is anything to worry about."

"Amber, what -"

Before she could protest Amber grabbed Sofia's arm, dragging her out of the room.

The blond princess's eyes scouted the hallway before landing on her target. "There, look."

Sofia looked in the direction of her sister's out-flung arm, but all she saw was Baileywick, the castle steward, making final adjustments to an arrangement of roses in an alcove.

"Baileywick!" Amber called, waving. "Could you come here for a moment?"

"Ah, Princess Amber, Princess Sofia," he bowed respectfully upon his approach. "How are you today?"

"I don't know," Amber said, considering Sofia closely. "How are we today, Sofia?"

Sofia's normally genteel demeanor was giving way to an intense desire to smack her sister. She clenched her jaw to keep her irritation at bay. "Fine."

"We're fine," Amber smiled at the steward. "That will be all."

He bowed again, giving them an odd look. "As you wish."

Sofia returned to her room with her sister in tow. "See," Amber beamed. "Nothing to worry about. No reason to go to the village and certainly no reason to miss the festivities."

Sofia rolled her eyes. "Really? You thought I was going to go all ga-ga over Baileywick?"

"Well, he is a man."

"Barely," Sofia mumbled. She didn't wish to be unkind, but the castle steward was about as sexual as a tree stump.

Amber threw her hands up in frustration. "If you're so worried about it then go see Cedric."

Sofia's back straightened in alarm. How did Amber know? She had always been so careful. "Wh ... why would I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Amber drawled while checking her makeup in the vanity mirror. "Because he's the royal sorcerer. You know, the creepy guy who's good at making potions. I'm sure he can make some counter spell-potion-thingy."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Sofia edged, "and he's not creepy."

"No, this is good," Amber said, warming to her own idea. She began bustling about the room, first drawing the curtains, then stuffing some pillows under the coverlet. "I'll tell mom and dad you're not feeling well and want to rest before the ball. You run over to see Cedric to make you the anti-potion or whatever."

"And this way you don't miss out on any of the party," Sofia added dryly.

"Please, Sofia." Amber clasped her hands in front of her in a pleading gesture and batted her eyes.

"Stop that." Sofia could already feel herself giving in, much too nice for her own good. "What makes you so sure I won't go throwing myself at Cedric?"

The blond snorted in a very un-princess like manner. "Please, I'm not worried about that. If Baileywick doesn't count as male, neither does Cedric."

Sofia huffed, offended but unable to defend her friend and mentor for fear she'd give herself away. Amber only saw anyone with the social standing of prince or higher as worthwhile.

"If you're so worried about it, I'll come check on you in an hour," Amber said, pushing the book into Sofia's hands, and ushering her out the door.

"You're not coming with me?"

"Someone has to go and spread the story that you're sick in bed."

"Yeah, and go have fun at the brunch with all of our friends, but that's a burden you're willing to bear I'm sure."

"Certainly, and the sooner you go get the counter-potion, the sooner you can join me." Amber gave her a nudge in the direction of the north tower.

"Okay," she groused. "But you promise you'll come check on me in an hour."

"Princess's honor."

"Alright," Sofia said, not feeling at all good about the turn of events the day had taken.

Clutching the book to her chest, she marched off toward Cedric's tower. As she went she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Amber had no way of knowing, in fact no one did as Sofia had taken great pains to disguise her growing affection for her mentor, but for some time now she'd harbored very strong feelings towards him. At first she wrote it off as a crush, an adolescent infatuation she would grow out of. But as she grew, so did her attraction to him. She couldn't help feeling that going to see Cedric today, of all days, and in this condition was a very bad idea.

Once outside his door she took a bracing breath and knocked, half hoping he wasn't there. She had no such luck as she heard the scrapping of a stool, some shuffling, and the door opening.

Cedric stood in the doorway looking tired and mused. He'd been busy the past few days preparing for the ball, charming silly little trinkets like singing flowers and candies that changed flavor based a person's mood. Magic shows had blessedly fallen out of favor, replaced by magical decorations and exotic feasts. He was more than content not to perform at today's gala. Instead he was looking forward to ignoring Valentine's Day altogether and staying in with a pot of hot tea and the latest magic tome procured from the village bookstore.

Hearing a knock on his door while the royal brunch was in full swing, he assumed he was about to receive a last minute request or summons, thus ruining his perfectly bland afternoon.

"Princess Sofia," he perked up in surprise. "To what do I owe the ... honor?" His cheeks reddened at the unsaid word "pleasure". He wanted to smack himself. Lately he'd turned into a blithering idiot when his former apprentice was around. It may or may not have something to do with her recent blossoming into womanhood and him pulling his head out of his cauldron long enough to finally notice.

It made small talk between them painfully awkward.

Even more so when the other person didn't actually participate.

"Princess?"

Sofia realized dimly that she had been standing at his doorway a full minute without saying a word. She knew he'd spoken to her, but she was a bit too preoccupied to respond.

Warm and tingly didn't begin to cover it.

* * *

Author's Note: If you like what you see here, please leave a review.


	2. Chapter 2

Intoxication: Chapter Two

* * *

 _I let it fall, my heart,_  
 _And as it fell you rose to claim it_  
 _It was dark and I was over_  
 _Until you kissed my lips and you saved me_

 _My hands, they're strong_  
 _But my knees were far too weak,_  
 _To stand in your arms_  
 _Without falling to your feet_

 _But there's a side to you_  
 _That I never knew, never knew._  
 _All the things you'd say_  
 _They were never true, never true,_  
 _And the games you play_  
 _You would always win, always win._

 _But I set fire to the rain,_  
 _Watched it pour as I touched your face,_  
 _Well, it burned while I cried_  
 _'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name!_

 _When I lay with you_  
 _I could stay there_  
 _Close my eyes_  
 _Feel you here forever_  
 _You and me together_  
 _Nothing gets better_

-Adele, _Set Fire to the Rain_

* * *

Despite the events earlier in the day, Amber entered the Valentine's Day brunch positively glowing. Everything was perfect, just as she planned it. At least the day wasn't a total failure; The party was a success if nothing else. She tried not to let her spirits dampen when she remembered how she had planned the day expecting to be on the arm of one of the most desirable princes in the realm instead of attending her own party all alone.

Fresh anger towards Hugo caused her eyes to narrow. Opening her fan with a snap, she surveyed the crowd. Hugo stood near the center of the gathering surrounded by a crowd fawning females. Word spread fast, she could see, and the sharks were already circling. Silently she cursed her failed plan. It would have been so satisfying to watch him grovel in front of his adoring fan club. Still, she reminded herself, a princess does not dwell on her mistakes. Though, she felt a pang of guilt for ruining Sofia's day, even accidentally. But she remained convinced that Sofia was worried over nothing. The potion had proven a failure, and with it Amber's plans for revenge.

Goose bumps prickled down her neck and she felt someone watching her. From across the room she caught the eye of Prince Zandar. He waved at her, a self-conscious flush darkening his cheeks. A coy smile tugged up the corners of her lips. There were easier, and more reliable ways to get revenge, like publicly getting over Hugo-The-Jerk in a day and moving on with a richer, handsomer prince.

She sauntered towards Zandar putting a subtle sway in her hips. The poor young man looked like a mouse caught in a trap, fragile and afraid. Amber smiled like a Cheshire cat.

* * *

 _Say something you idiot!_

"Hi," Sofia managed, smiling brightly.

Perhaps too brightly as Cedric gave her a strange look. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Oh, yes," she cooed, her smile turning sultry. Everything in her suddenly felt loose and liquid. The hot, zinging buzz that had electrified her whole body upon first seeing him had lessened to slow waves of heat rolling up and down her belly.

Cedric studied her with a concerned look on his face. She realized was staring again.

"Er, um, I mean, I'm fine, thank you." She cleared her throat and tried to ignore the sudden strong desire to lean into him and rub her cheek against his robes. They looked soft and velvety and she wondered how they'd feel against her bare skin. Clearing her throat, she tried to remember what it was she came here to do. "I came to ...,"

"You came to what, exactly?"

She looked down at the book clutched to her chest, her thoughts going fuzzy.. "I came to wish you a happy Valentine's Day." Her head popped up, not entirely sure what she was saying.

"Ah, yes, that," he shrugged and she traced the ripple of his shoulders with her eyes. "I don't much care for the holiday, but thank you."

"I'm sorry," she frowned. "I don't have a card or anything."

"That's quite all right." His smile, somewhere between an indolent smirk and a self-deprecating frown, made her stomach flip flop. "Where are my manners? I was just about to make some tea, would you care to join me?"

"Yes, please," she purred before clamping her mouth shut.

Sofia followed him at a safe distance. Her hands seemed to itch to reach out and touch him. She set Madame Du Bois' book on the workbench and busied herself by fetching the chipped tea pot down from its customary shelf, before retrieving two mismatched cups. Their companionable relationship didn't much stand on ceremony. She's spent more time in this room than any other part of the castle, except perhaps her own room. From early on she showed an aptitude for magic, and as their friendship grew, Cedric took an interest in her education, tutoring her in the magical arts. Over the years she'd become intimately familiar with every nook and cranny of this tower.

She stole a glance at the royal sorcerer from underneath her lowered lashes. The bolt of electrified heat that raced down her spine made her feel as if she'd like to become intimately familiar with the tower's occupant as well.

Cedric prepared the kettle, muttering a spell to make a fountain of water shoot from the end of his wand. "I'm surprised to see you here today. Shouldn't you be downstairs attending to your guests?"

Sofia chewed on her bottom lip, not knowing how much truth she wanted to tell him, but reluctant to lie. "I was at the brunch earlier. Mom and dad sent me to find Amber. She was missing at breakfast."

"And did you?"

"Huh?" She found herself easily distracted.

"Princess Amber, did you find her?"

"You could say that," she muttered.

Cedric cocked his right eye brow in question.

"I mean, yes, I did." She hurried on, "Since I was close to your tower, I thought I'd stop and say hello."

"How very kind of you." His voice sounded queer, as if he wasn't sure which emotion to display. "Still, I wouldn't want you to miss any of the fun on my account."

She surprised them both by reaching out to grasp his hand. "I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be right now."

A smile of genuine surprise and pleasure lit up his face. Their eyes locked and the look between them lengthened. Abruptly he realized he was staring and let go of her hand. "What's that?"

Sofia looked over to see the potions book. "That?" She struggled to remember why she had to tell him the truth. She slid the book farther away so it wasn't so conspicuous. "That's just some silly book Amber bought."

"Oh," was all he could say. When she didn't offer any more information on the matter he dropped it.

Sofia watched him disappear into the study, bringing the kettle to warm by the fire. Her grip on the tea tray tightened until her knuckles ached. What was she doing?

She should tell him.

She should.

She should simply open her mouth and tell him the truth: That she had been doused with an infatuation potion and come to him for the antidote. There was really no need to mention that the effects only seemed to kick in once she laid eyes upon him, or what they were currently doing to her: making every inch of her skin feel alive, aching with anticipation, craving his touch, or that she could feel her inhibitions dropping by the second.

It reminded her of the time James convinced her to drink champagne at Princess Hildegarde's last birthday party. The bubbles had tickled her nose, and it tasted so innocently sweet that she was completely drunk before she knew it. She had spent the remainder of that disastrous evening dancing like a fool, singing at the top of her lungs, and proclaiming her love for every single person there, including every footmen and the castle steward. A remarkably embarrassing affair, her friends still teased her about it.

She felt a bit drunk now. Intoxicated was a good word for it. Like champagne, she felt bubbly and light, no longer weighed down by indecision, embarrassment, or fear of rejection; all the things she usually felt around Cedric since the day she realized her feelings towards him went beyond friendship.

Looking down at Madame Du Bois' book of potions, she took a deep breath and tried to gather her scattered wits. What was she going to do?

* * *

Cedric walked into the study adjourning his workshop. For years this room had sat empty and unused until Sofia realized its existence. Now it was a cozy abode filled with odd bits of furniture pilfered from various parts of the castle. She had spent many rainy afternoons curled up in one of the high backed chairs with a book and a cup of cocoa. Their years of close friendship, not to mention mentor/pupil relationship created a veil of propriety that rendered their long hours together innocuous. No one paid any mind or thought it odd if the young woman spent the day sequestered in his study, or if the two of them took a day trip to Mystic Meadows.

Though it had taken some time, and nearly half a dozen instances of him helping to save the kingdom from extreme peril, the king and queen trusted him implicitly with their youngest child's well-being. In part, the unwavering trust of the royal family is what caused him to distance himself from her as of late. Everyone else trusted his judgment concerning her, but he was no longer certain he trusted himself.

Still, she was his dearest friend and he couldn't bear to treat her poorly. He wouldn't turn away her company on account of a wayward infatuation on his part. He had no illusions about their stations in life, he simply feared making a complete fool of himself. Any fantastical notions of affection beyond friendship were just that, a fantasy.

He set the kettle by the fire and scrubbed his hand over his tired face. He needed to get his emotions together. With her magnanimous nature and provincial beginnings, Sofia sometimes did or said things beyond the societal norm of her position to help those she cared about. She was far more warm and caring than the average royal, and he tried not to let his imagination run away with him. Though something about her today had him on edge. She seemed ... not her usual self.

He was being silly, or perhaps wistful. He always detested this damned holiday, he just never imagined it could turn him into such an insensible fool. That she had thought of him on such a day didn't mean a thing. She was always thinking of others. He was probably one in a long list of servants and staff she'd visited today. Besides, what could possibly happen over a simple cup of tea?

* * *

The shriek of a whistling kettle broke Sofia out of her reverie. She hadn't decided what she intended to do with regards to her predicament. Lost in her own thoughts, she brought the tea tray into the study and set it down on the little table by the fire. Too restless to sit still she watched with hooded eyes as Cedric moved about collecting cups, saucers, spoons, and the like. He prepared two cups of tea, one just the way she liked it.

When her heart started beating so fast? She whetted her lips with the tip of her tongue and tried to pick through the muddled tangle of sensible thoughts and insensible desires running rampant through her mind. No matter how she tried nothing would stick except the completely irresponsible inclination to tackle him on the worn settee.

 _Tackle him and do what?_ Her fevered mind asked. Her body answered with an obliging rush of warmth that made the tips of her breasts ache to match the sudden harsh yearning in her groin.

By all the gods and angels, she wanted ...

She wasn't entirely sure what she wanted, because she'd never, even in her wildest dreams, imagined her blood could boil like this.

But, she wanted.

She moved on impulse, standing closer to him than was proper, even for their close friendship. At that moment Cedric turned, a cup of tea perched in his hand. Surprised to find her so close behind him, he jumped, sloshing hot tea down the front of him.

"Merlin's mushrooms," he muttered, setting down the empty cup and swiping ineffectively at his wet robes.

"I'm so sorry," she said, sounding not very sorry at all. All of a sudden she felt very bold. "Let me help."

Sofia's small hands pushed his own aside, feeling brief shocks of electricity where their fingers brushed. She deftly untied the sash of his robes before slipping her hands inside. They slid up his chest, pushing the thick material off his shoulders.

Cedric started to feel the princess touching him so freely. Despite a decade of growing closeness, propriety created a cocoon of modesty that society and station dictated neither of them intrude upon. As the person of higher status Sofia had freer rein to bestow upon him the occasional affectionate caress, or hug, but Cedric was bound by decorum and servitude to never initiate such contact. This was the way of their lives, an ingrained system so embedded as to be above question. His surprise at a scant caress across his chest and shoulders was understandable and immediate. His widened eyes settled upon the crown of her hair, the only part of her he could see from his vantage point. The heavy robes fell to the floor in an inelegant heap, and she set about undoing his mustard cravat next.

"I don't believe my tie got any tea on it," he muttered, thoroughly out of his depth.

Sofia didn't hear him; she was entranced. Of course she had seen him without his sorcerer's robes before, but she had certainly never helped him undress. She watched enthralled as she uncovered his bare neck and throat. Something about the cut of his jaw line made her want to bury her nose in the hollow just below his ear. She leaned into him, closer than any friendly embrace. The sleek cap of her auburn hair fitted nicely under his chin and her hastened breath ghosted over his bare collarbone. Indecision warred within her. She wanted to kiss him. Not a quick peck on the cheek, or a delicate brush of the lips. She wanted to kiss him fully and deeply on the mouth.

She'd read and re-read tales filled with kisses, true and otherwise. She'd dreamed of this moment for years and never had it been like this. Not that she hadn't dreamed of kissing Cedric; she'd fantasized countless scenarios involving sequestered magic lessons or castle alcoves, but they paled in comparison to the burning desire alive inside her now.

Cedric's hands drifted up to gently cup her shoulders. Uncertainty was written in every line of his body. "Sofia?"

The slight tremor in his voice create a similar response in her body. Her hands moved before any slow-moving device like reason could follow, as if her skin craved all and any sensation. Even the brush of the slippery satin of his cravat made her fingertips tingle. Tilting her chin up, she found him looking down upon her, his eyes darkened with questions, uncertainties, and perhaps just a little hope. It was all the encouragement she needed to wind the loose ends of his tie around her hands, certain of what she intended to do, but still unconvinced it was a good idea.

Cedric was momentarily stuck dumb by the way she was looking at him. He's certainly never seen such raw and open longing on her face, and never dreamed that she would look at him that way. She tipped her head back, using the grip on his tie for balance as she raised up on her tip toes. He had just enough presence of mind to whisper, "What are you doing?" before her satiny mouth pressed against his own.

Physically it was the mere act of pressing their lips together, but inside it was a cataclysm. A riot of new, wild emotions vied for her attention. Delight and pleasure warmed her, while anticipation built a fire in her core. At first his mouth remained slack against hers until she tugged on the ends of his cravat, encouraging him.

Cedric woke from his initial shock. He had a brief flash of reason, completely certain encouraging her was a very bad idea indeed. Viciously he trampled that voice down and gave himself over to the moment. Impatient desire curled through his veins, heightened to a frenzy by her unexpected actions. Her lips parted in shy invitation and she made a startlingly erotic noise of satisfaction when his tongue slipped into her mouth.

He groaned, completely shattered to find her taste as sweet and intoxicating as he'd imagined. He ravaged her willing mouth, expecting that this was his one and only chance to do so. Whatever trick of fate brought about this lapse in reasoning on her part, he would steal a few moments of pleasure before her better judgment caught up. Little did he know Sofia was disinclined to put a stop to his machinations. She swirled her tongue against his own, finding a graceful rhythm that left him breathless.

In her grasping quest to relieved the tension growing inside her, she pressed the full length of her body against his. Stretched so far up on her toes, she tipped forward, losing her balance and sending them both tumbling down upon the threadbare settee. She wasted no time gathering up her skirts and climbing onto his lap. Cedric had a moment to consider that things were getting out of hand, but it was hard to remember why with her silk stocking clad knees on either side of his hips. He slipped his hands around her waist, unsure if he intended to push her away or draw her closer. Before he could decide her mouth was upon his again, causing his thoughts to scatter.

Sofia felt alive and present, no second thoughts or worries about repercussions. The potion coursing through her made every touch vibrate with intensity. Her hands roved over his shoulders and neck. They plunged into his silky hair, bringing his mouth closer as she squirmed in his lap trying to assuage the hollow ache inside her.

His groan turned into a whine when her searching body found purchase on his stiff and growing arousal. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, while the other crooked up to curl his fingers over the back of her heavy corset. He leveraged both to pull her further down on his lap. They had one brief flash of blinding pleasure, punctuated by her surprised gasp, before he abruptly came to his senses.

One moment Sofia was incomprehensible, riding a wave of blistering sensation that brought promise of alleviating the needy ache building between her thighs, and in the next moment she found herself bereft of his warmth, dumped carelessly across the worn couch.

Cedric strode across the length of the room trying to put physical distance between them. Frustration registered in every taught line of his long frame. He raked his hands through his hair, trying to gather his sanity. This tender blossoming of passion threatened to ignited into a wildfire if he didn't put a stop to it. The tenuous thread of his control strained to breaking when he turned and saw the raw, erotic vision she portrayed among the old cushions. With rosy cheeks and swollen lips, her luminous eyes stared back, dazed and wanting. Her legs curled to the side, her skirts had bunched up about her waist. Posed in such a way he could plainly see the lace trimmed tops of her stockings as well as the bare skin of her thighs above. Abruptly he turned away, groaning in dismay.

"What's wrong?" she gasped, more than a little breathless.

He grasped the stone post of the door frame, tempted to bash his forehead against it.

"What's wrong?" His mirthless laughter was moderately hysterical. "Let's see, shall we. I've either completely lost all my faculties and am currently in the grip of a rather devious, albeit delightful, hallucination. Or this is, in fact, reality and we've both lost our minds."

She blinked at him.

"This," he gestured between them, "cannot happen."

"Why not?" She climbed off the settee, approaching him. She was on fire and only he could help her quench it. She was in no mood to be dissuaded.

Not once in all his years had he ever felt intimidated by the petite princess. She barely came up to his chin and was so slender he could fit his hands around her waist, but right now he felt _stalked_. He pushed his back against the door frame, clenching his fist to keep from touching her.

He took a fortifying breath. "Princess -"

"Call me Sofia," she giggled, very close to him now.

He couldn't surmise what brought on this change of personality in her. Perhaps it was this absurd holiday bringing out wild notions of love and lust. Regardless, he ignored her request. "I believe we both know nothing can happen between the two of us. You should go back to the party and we should both forget any of this ever happened."

She looked up at him through her dark lashes. Her rosebud mouth puckered up in a pout and she batted her eyes at him. It was a look she'd seen Amber use to near perfect effect. She could see Cedric's resolve weakening and took the advantage to run her hands up his chest to toy with the buttons of his vest. She just needed to chip away at him until he broke. The mercenary thought should have given her pause, but at the moment it only spurred her on.

"No one has to know," her voice was a sultry purr that surprised even her. She hadn't known this side of her existed. "Just this once Cedric, and then we can both walk away from here and act like nothing happened."

It was a seductive offer. Certainly more tempting than letting her leave him with an unfulfilled ache in his groin. But Sofia was someone special to him; she wasn't equal to a casual tumble with a willing chamber maid. Her sultry proposition tempted to the edge of depravity, but he held out against it.

"I didn't ask to be a princess." She didn't know where those words came from, or the conviction behind them, but more words followed in their wake, taking her by surprise. "Someday I'll be expected to marry a prince, or a duke, or a count. I know my parents will let me choose who I like, maybe even someone I care for, but I can't choose whoever I like. I can't marry you for instance, even if I wanted to.

"I'm not saying I want us to be married," she added hastily, sensing she'd strayed too far from her original point. "I'm just asking, can't I choose this for myself?"

His hands itched to hold her and he swayed forward. "I understand what you're saying. Truly, I do, but I cannot compromise you."

She'd been stealthily slipping the buttons of his vest free and came upon the last one. A naughty smile crinkled the corner of her mouth. "Who says you can't?"

"I say I can't." He grasped her wrists, stopping her from working on the buttons of his shirt next. He hadn't expected to bare his heart to her today, but he found himself admitting the truth. "I care about you too much to dishonor you this way."

She leaned forward, trapping their hands between them. The backs of his hands pressed against her breasts and she silently damned her thick corset. A frown puckered her brow. "Dishonor? How can it be dishonorable to be with someone who I care about, and who cares about me. You do care about me, don't you?"

"And they say there are no stupid questions." His biting sarcasm was tempered by the look in his eyes. "I thought princesses were supposed to be chaste. Didn't they teach you that at Royal Prep?"

She snorted indelicately. "You wouldn't say that if you knew half the princesses in the realm."

"You cannot be serious."

"I could tell you stories that would turn the rest of your hair grey," she laughed. "You never struck me as the type to believe in fairy tales."

"Maybe not," his eyes looked a little sad, "But you did."

She didn't know how to respond to that so she chose to ignore it. Besides, she was tired of talking. Flattening her hands against his chest she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. His grip on her wrists slackened as his head fell back. Her smiling lips ghosted over his Adam's apple, which bobbed up and down as he swallowed. She had to raise up on her tip toes again to reach the corner of his jaw. While her tongue plundered the sensitive spot below his ear she felt his hands slip around her hips to steady her.

"Please Cedric," she pleaded against his ear.

His groan was of pure torment. For a moment she believed she'd won until he gently pushed her away. "No."

Sofia blinked at him, uncomprehending for a moment. He used the delay to his advantage, moving out of her proximity. She followed him into the workshop, trailing him like a pet unexpectedly spurred by a beloved master, confused and abandoned.

With as much aplomb as he could muster, he threw open the tower door and motioned for her to leave. He despised himself for the wounded look on her face, but it couldn't be helped. If she didn't leave here - _now_ \- he would likely be the cause of a very different brand of damage. A nasty voice inside his head berated him for choosing today of all days to grow a conscience.

The blood in his ears had lessened to a dull roar. Still, he wished for the voluminous fold of his robes to hide the uncomfortable cut of his trousers across his aching groin. "I think it's best if you leave now." His formal courtesy was undercut by the pleading in his eyes. "Please, Sofia."

Her name rolled off his tongue like a caress and she shivered. Her obliging nature warred with this new carnal desire. The potion not only heightened every sensation, but turned her yearnings into selfish needs. She knew she was hurting him, but she couldn't help it; She wanted him too much.

And she could have him. Afforded a superior education, she had not learned the subtleties of every subject from personal deportment to inter-kingdom diplomacy without learning how to read and best an opponent. And she certainly knew this one. Cedric was a kind friend and a sensational sorcerer, but he could be vain as well as selfish. Compliments and flattery weren't going to get her what she wanted. She'd have to offer him something he couldn't refuse, and for that some bold action on her part was necessary.

Cedric softened in relief as Sofia approached, only to stiffen with dismay when she looked him straight in the eye and closed the door. If he expected her to persuade him, to plead or even beg, he was mistaken. She said not a word as she turned and went through another door, the one that lead to his personal chambers, loosening the ties of her gown as she went.

* * *

Author's note: What do you think? Let me know by kindly leaving a review. I was trying to keep them in character while slowly building the oc effects of the potion. This story started as a "Let's just douse her with something, have her throw herself at Cedric, and then hot monkey sex ensures." Once I started writing I became intrigued by the idea of if I could create one-off hot monkey sex AND keep the characters as in character as possible.

Your patience for M-rated goodness will be rewarded in chapter 3, I promise.


	3. Chapter 3

Intoxication: Chapter Three

* * *

 _Looking up from underneath_  
 _Fractured moonlight on the sea_  
 _Reflections still look the same to me_  
 _As before I went under_

 _And it's peaceful in the deep_  
 _Cathedral where you cannot breathe_  
 _No need to pray, no need to speak_  
 _Now I am under_

 _Oh, and it's breaking over me_  
 _A thousand miles down to the sea bed_  
 _Found the place to rest my head_

 _(Never let me go, never let me go_  
 _Never let me go, never let me go)_

 _And the arms of the ocean are carrying me_  
 _And all this devotion out of rushing over me_  
 _And the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me_  
 _But the arms of the ocean delivered me_

 _Though the pressure's hard to take_  
 _It's the only way I can escape_  
 _It seems a heavy choice to make_  
 _But now I am under, oh_

 _And it's breaking over me_  
 _A thousand miles down to the sea bed_  
 _I found the place to rest my head_

 _(Never let me go, never let me go_  
 _Never let me go, never let me go)_

 _And the arms of the ocean are carrying me_  
 _(So cold and so sweet)_  
 _And all this devotion was rushing out of me_  
 _And the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me_  
 _But the arms of the ocean delivered me_

 _And it's over and I'm going under_  
 _But I'm not giving up_  
 _I'm just giving in_

-Florence and the Machine, _Never Let Me Go_

* * *

Cedric stared at the empty air in front of him, utterly convinced that any moment now he'd wake up. Replaying the afternoon's events in his mind, he tried to pinpoint the exact moment when he'd taken leave of his senses. He was fairly certain his eyesight was as keen as ever and he had in fact just seen what he thought he saw: Sofia heading up the stairs to his bed chamber, removing her clothing as she went. Following her would mean crossing a final line, heading down a road that led to ruin for both of them.

Most people of his acquaintance wrongly assumed that he had never had the occasion to have an intimate encounter with the fairer sex. Some even believed him celibate, as if sorcerer was synonymous with monk. Not that he was often called upon to defend his reputation, but those people were most assuredly wrong. True, he was no Casanova, nor was his list of lovers extensive, but they did exist.

Since beginning his career as royal sorcerer there had been a few women of his acquaintance. These relationships were ironically the result of a younger Sofia's incessant meddling born of her determination to see everyone around her happy. In her doe-eyed view of the world that translated to love. In the end nothing ever stuck. He was an irascible loner, too tied in up in obscure potions and dusty books to hold the attention of a woman for very long. Or perhaps he'd never fully committed himself to winning the affection of any woman. He'd never found a single one interested in or willing to break down his walls.

No one except Sofia.

He sighed with resignation before heading up the stairs.

The door to his bedroom stood invitingly open. The thin winter sun steaming through the panel glass created a hushed veil of light. It inferred an aura of intimacy and heightened the illusion of privacy. Even in a castle full of people hardly anyone ever came to call at his tower. It was unlikely they'd be disturbed.

She was standing near the foot of his bed with her back turned. Her auburn curls hung in loose waves that spilled over her shoulders and down her back. As his attraction to her grew over these last few months, he'd been increasingly teased by the sight of her. In private moments, he'd fought the temptation to grasp her bare hand or smooth a wayward pucker of lace. At the occasional ball, while standing at the back waiting to be doled out before the aristocracy like a trained pet, he'd entertained himself with the fantasy of cupping the sleek curve of her back during a waltz. Once he'd woken from a dream; One tender and erotic that left him panting in its wake. None of those fevered imagining compared to the sight of her now.

She glanced at him over the bare curve of her shoulder, her big blue eyes darkened and her lips blush pink. "Are you going to help me with my laces, or should I keep struggling on my own?"

He realized then that she had one hand twisted up behind her back attempting to grasp the ties on her corset.

He sighed. One last time. He'd try one last time. Really, he'd been far more patient than anyone could expect. "Sofia, please put your clothes back on. This isn't ..."

"Proper," she supplied, giving him a devious grin. "Oh! I got it."

She wiggled this way and that, loosening her stiff laces. Ever considerate of others, she often dismissed her maid and undressed herself at bedtime. She was adept at single handedly divesting herself of the complicated garments of royalty. She slipped the stiff corset over her head, then did away with her petticoats with a few loosened knots. She stepped out of the pool of starched crinoline at her feet and turned around.

The image she cut sent a jolt of raw heat racing to his groin. Cedric may have entertained notion of loving Sofia, but lusting for her was a whole different matter. She always seems so pristine, so pure, almost saint-like; Watching her disrobe for his appraisal was intoxicating. Still covered in stockings and chemise, but he could just make out the tantalizing outline of her nude body underneath. He tried not to linger over the erect peaks of her breasts pressing so distinctly against the gossamer fabric of her slip. He tried, but he failed.

She giggled. "Shall I continue? Or have you caught on that I don't care about what's proper?"

"I," he swallowed to wet his dry throat. "I fear if you remove anything else you may kill me."

She laughed and it sounded genuine, no coquettish teasing or flattery. He relaxed just a little. But his conscience still nagged at him. "Can I say for the record that this is a terrible idea."

She closed the distance between them.

"That wasn't a no." Her hands splayed over his chest, feeling the gentle thump of his heart. "In fact, that was almost a yes."

She tilted her face towards him and he could no longer resist the temptation of her upturned lips. Any cooling of his blood was immediately rekindled as he gathered her up in his arms, pressing her yielding form against him. She gasped and he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth. The feel of her pliant body against his, unencumbered by layers of heavy damask and stays, effected them both. Her thin slip was no longer a barrier, but fragile kindling adding fuel to the fire. Her tender passion threatened to burn him to ash.

She felt sinfully wicked. The stiff customs of the aristocracy dictated a strict code of conduct. The young nobility often flaunted the rules, stealing away for a forbidden tryst in the rose garden, or quick kisses in a secluded alcoves. They were curious and confused, desperately trying to grasp some semblance of control in a life often dictated by elder relatives, political maneuverings and national alliances. Physical contact was limited, hindered by intricate vestments and limited privacy. Sofia had only gone so far as sneaking away for a few heated kisses before, and she'd thought those scandalous.

Cedric's hands caressing her back, tangling in her hair brought out little sounds of pleasure from her throat. Like a waltz they moved in tandem towards the bed. She scrambled backwards onto it and Cedric paused to take in the sight. To see her lying on his bed in wanton anticipation made his member twitch. His state of arousal bordered on pain.

Having made her intentions plainly clear and expressing his reservations, the reasons to deny her- _to deny themselves_ \- dwindled to nothing. Hastily he tore off his open vest and yanked the open collar of his shirt over his head. He climbed atop her, thrusting his eager tongue into her mouth. She could feel the change in him and his intensity took her breath away. For the first time she felt a nervous flutter in her belly. This was actually happening. The potion coursed through her, matching his desire. She grasped at his bare shoulders, sliding eager hands into his hair. Their mouths mingled, making hot, slippery love. Her pleased moans rose to a squeak when he grasped her breast, teasing the firm bud through her shift. His thumb brushed over her nipple again and again, fanning the flames of her rising arousal.

He wanted to go slowly, not only to prepare her, but to prolong this precious interlude. Her ceaseless squirming threatened to unman him before they'd barely begun. He moved his hips back, thankful for the intervening fabric of his trousers. His lips flowed down her jaw and neck. She was wonderfully responsive to every caress and making it awfully difficult for him to take his time. Pushing her slip aside, he sucked the peak of her breast into his greedy mouth. Her fingers curled in his hair, pulling it painfully tight.

She threw her head back, screwing her eyes shut tight, giving all her attention to the sensations coursing through her. His tongue flicking over her nipple made sparks dance behind her eyes. But her eyes flew open wide again when one of his long, slender fingers broached the downy fleece between her legs.

He groaned, even as he kissed her breast; her tautness was incredible. His fingers stroked her, consuming her in hot flames of desire. He smeared the thick honey of her arousal before cautiously easing a second finger into her. The day had taken so many unexpected turns that he was no longer certain what he really knew about her; if what he thought- _assumed_ \- about her was indeed true. It took a significant will to drag his mouth away from her, but there was something he needed to ask.

"Sofia?" He nuzzled her neck. The answer to his next question didn't really matter- _much_ \- but it would dictate exactly how he'd proceed.

She made a noise something like, "Nugh?" Looking like she could think, let alone speak.

His extracted his fingers with great effort. She groaned in protest.

"Fee?"

She peeked at him from under her lashes, intrigued by the endearing lilt of his voice. He'd never called her by anything other than Sofia or princess before.

"I need to ask you something."

"Now?" She asked, incredulous. "Really?"

"Yes," he chuckled. "It's of some importance at this particular moment."

She tugged at his shoulders encouraging him to come back for another kiss. He became momentarily distracted by her lips.

"Stop that," he chided, once he could bare to pull away. "Temptress."

She bite her lip and it made him want to suck the tender bud into his mouth. "I'll behave myself," she promised, even as her hands roamed his chest. "Princess's honor."

"I was previously under the impression that you were, ah, naive in the ways of the bedchamber," he said, trying to be delicate in his phrasing.

"That's not a question." Her hands slipped down his abdomen and his mind momentarily went blank.

"Are you a virgin?" He sputtered.

Her hands stopped and he bit back a curse. "Is that a problem?"

 _Yes. No. Define problem._ His mind skipped like a scratched gramophone record.

Her hand continued down, ghosting over the seam of his pants.

"It should be, but it's becoming less of a concern by the minute," he panted.

"Minute?" She smiled slyly, curling her fingers around the length of him through his trousers.

"Make that second," he gasped.

"Good." She went for the buttons of his pants, but he moved away.

"Are you sure about this?"

Exasperation made her groan. She was absolutely sure and ready to tell him as much, but when she saw the look on his face, she softened. He was genuinely concerned. She caressed his cheek before kissing him tenderly. "Yes."

Her hands went back to his pants and when he moved away this time she did protest.

"Not yet," he kissed her neck, just below her ear.

"What else is there?" She squirmed, impatient.

His looked at her, a lopsided smile on his face. "Oh, you precious thing. What did I say about stupid questions?"

She frowned, uncertain if she'd just been insulted. But soon became distracted as he slid down her body, pushing her shift up as he went. She hoped he would bring his mouth back to her breasts; she'd quite liked that. Instead he went lower. What in world was he ...

"Oh my god," she moaned. When his questing mouth latched on to the honeyed sweetness of her womanhood she arched so violently that her hips left the bed. Unperturbed, he merely accommodated her by slipping a supporting hand beneath her bottom.

Cedric couldn't help but smile against the taut satin of her flesh. He ran his tongue up the length of her folds, paying special attention to the engorged bud at the top. He lavished her with a hunger that made him quake, wanting to taste every inch of her.

A hoarse whimper escaped her. The feverish strokes of his tongue painted a dark portrait of desire and longing. She was an insensible victim to his tender assault. Talk about improper, she was certain a lady of breeding was supposed to object to such debased treatment. Good thing she was born a peasant then. She flexed her hips, letting her legs fall open to give him better access. This was a dark dance she didn't know the steps to, but she was all too willing to learn.

And he was only too eager to worship at the altar of her pleasure. Her uninhibited surrender exhilarated him, making him feel reckless and drunk. He sucked the tight bud of her arousal, flicking his tongue over it. Her moans reached a crescendo but rather than back away he forged on, slipping two fingers into her tight channel.

Sofia arched higher, crying out. She felt like a harp string pulled to reckless limits, being strummed by an expert player. The release was made all the sweeter for the buildup. When her muscles stopped clenching she collapsed, relearning how to control her own body. But she didn't have time to recover because he hadn't stopped. She whimpered, feeling herself rising again, like turning pins being turned, pulling the strings taut.

Cedric had the vague notion that he should perhaps ease up a bit, but she was just so damned responsive to every touch. His masculine vanity couldn't help but preen as he forced her over the threshold for a second time. This time she let out a high keening wail.

He extracted his fingers and kissed her engorged flesh sweetly, easing her down from the high. She was more than ready, and he could no longer deny himself. Sitting back on his heels, he popped open the buttons on his pants. He took his time, wanting to memorize this moment. She looked like a deposed angel and the sight made his heart flutter. She was still adorned in white stockings and crumpled shift, one breast exposed and the silky curls between her legs glistening.

He nearly sighed in relief when his weeping cock sprung free. As he quickly did away with his pants, Sofia stared with unabashed curiosity and wonder.

"Do you mind?" He chuckled.

She bit her lip. "Not at all."

She giggled at his look of feigned affront, but when he knelt on the edge of the bed, the laughter died in her throat. He gathered up her poor beleaguered shift and she helped him slip it over her head. A vivid blush spread down her neck, over her chest as he took in the full, naked sight of her. His eyes shown with wonder and when he bent down to lay a reverent kiss to her hip, she sighed. He crawled over her body slowly, stopping to plant more kisses along her belly, up her ribs and over her breast. He took a moment to languish his tongue over her nipple. When her insistent hips pressed up, nudging against his bare arousal, he scraped his teeth over the tender bud.

His hips settled between her legs, rubbing the underside of his length along her bare folds.

"Oh god," she moaned.

"Most people just call me Cedric."

She couldn't believe she could laugh at a time like this, but she found their easy rapport heartwarming. She never expected making love to be like this, sublime passion punctuated by tender conversation. But now that she'd experienced it, this is exactly how she thought it should be. Her physical attraction to him was being tempered into a fondness she hadn't expected. She pulled him up to kiss her and it quickly turned hungry.

His took his weight on his left elbow, using his right hand to reach between them and position himself. He looked down upon her and she gazed steadily back. At the first press of his hips her breath shuttered. He watched every play of emotion across her face as he pressed into her, inch by inch. He didn't notice any resistance or barrier to speak of, but she was unrelentingly tight. By the time he was sheathed in her entirely, he was gasping.

Sofia had no basis for comparison, but she was not disappointed. She assumed she had Fountain D'engouement to thank for the lack of pain. She felt unbearably full though, stretched taut around him. It was like nothing she could describe. Her inner muscles were already clenching around him.

He eased his hips back before pushing steadily forward. Her breath ghosted over his lips. The awe, the wonderment depicted on her face made his chest ache. He used his hands to tip her face towards him and kissed her deeply while his hips took measured strokes, coaxing her into a fury of sensation. Her fingertips pressed into his shoulders and he could tell she was close. Taking his weight on one of his elbows, he used his free hand to caress her breast. She arched into his touch, her whole body pressing up against him. She tore her mouth away, crying out as he rode her through the cresting waves of pleasure.

When her muscles stopped clinching, and she prized her eyes open to look at him, he felt an unexpected pain constrict his heart. In the space of that moment he realized his fatal mistake. So blinded by physical desire he hadn't take his heart into consideration. He smoothed a damp strand of hair from her moist lips and gazed upon her face, wondering at the emotions coursing through him. Looking down into her guileless blue eyes he knew then that he was hopelessly, inextricably in love with her.

The knowledge that this was a one-time fling suddenly gripped him, strangling the air from his lungs. How was he supposed to walk away after this and pretend as if none of it ever happened? That it hadn't mattered. Thinking about it in the past tense already hurt and the "it" was still very much in the present.

"What's wrong?" she breathed.

"Nothing," he lied. He kissed her neck so she wouldn't recognize the duplicity on his face.

Sofia had the lingering notion that something was amiss, but had no time to examine it because he was moving inside her again. Coaxing her right leg up around his hip, he sank deeper than she thought possible and dark threads of pleasure surged through her. She'd been the one to coerce him into this sensuous interlude, yet somehow he had become the teacher, instructing her body in the enchanting pleasures of the flesh. A guttural groan reverberated in his chest. He took his weight on his hands and ground his hips against hers, consuming them both in exquisite fire. Drunk with pleasure, Sofia could do little more than lay beneath him and relinquish her body to his carnal sorcery. Sensational indeed, quaking ribbons of ecstasy ricocheted through her. She wasn't sure she could handle much more of this delicious torment.

Cedric's arms trembled with the strain of holding back his own release. He wasn't going to last much longer but he wanted her there at the end with him. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her. This time when he kissed her there was more than desire in it. He brushed his lips over hers, desperate to communicate the riot of emotions clashing inside him. She whimpered into his mouth and he couldn't be sure if she understood, or was simply too overwrought to comprehend. He tried to believe that it didn't matter.

He surged into her, caressing the contours of her mouth with his tongue while his body took hers lower. He felt the tell-tale tightening of her arms around his shoulders, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs. He gathered her tighter against him, kissing her like she was the air he needed to breathe. Perhaps she was.

They came together. A phenomenon he hadn't experienced before, it was indescribable. He felt like the hot explosive rush happened just as much in his heart as in his groin, leaving him gutted and hollow in its wake.

Sofia felt fractured, like pieces of her had been flung to the far corners of the world, mingling with the very cosmos. She clung to his shoulders, remembering how to breathe. Her body shook with little tremors of pleasure and she fluttered around him where he was still buried deep within her. It felt so good, being one with him- being complete with him- that she didn't want to be parted.

They lay like that for some time, breathing hard, slowly coming down from the euphoric high back to cold reality. He reevaluated his earlier statement and reaffirmed its truth. This had been a truly terrible idea. A terrible, wonderful, heartbreaking idea. As he eased out of her, she made of soft sound of protest. He felt bereft without her warmth.

Sofia cradled his face in her hands unwilling to let him go just yet. He looked sad and it made her ache. She kissed him delicately before tentatively flicking her tongue against his closed lips. He opened to her at once, taking her mouth as he'd just taken her body. When he pulled away she looked drowsy and pleased.

A tiny flame of hope kindled into being in his heart. Hope for what he wasn't entirely sure just yet.

"You called me Fee," she whispered, taking him somewhat by surprise.

"Oh," he moved his weight off her, laying by her side. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. That's just what I call you, sometimes, in my mind."

"You do?" His shy confession made her smile. Most people called her Sof if they called her anything other than her full name or title. The notion that Cedric had a special nickname for her filled her with warmth. "I like it."

"Really?"

She cuddled up to his chest enjoying the warmth of his body. "Yeah."

Her slender warmth pressed against him felt so natural and right that he hated to break the delicate silence, but the world outside this room was still waiting. "I think we need to talk about this."

"Mmmhh."

He looked down to find her dozing off. Sofia felt uncommonly tired all of a sudden, sluggish and drugged. When she began to shiver, he eased the blankets out from underneath them to cover her. He shouldn't let her fall asleep; They didn't have the luxury of time, but he couldn't bear to see this afternoon end. Not yet.

* * *

Author's Note: Before this fic I didn't really understand what writers meant when they said the characters dictated the story. I always thought, "But you're the author. You can make the characters do whatever you want." Not in this story. Cedric definitely became an entity unto himself and began to take the reins of this fic. Poor guy, he didn't expect to realize he loved her so deeply in the middle of an afternoon fling. I hope you liked me during this chapter. You're going to hate me for the next. Sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

Intoxication : Chapter Four

* * *

 _Regrets collect like old friends_  
 _Here to relive your darkest moments_  
 _I can see no way, I can see no way_  
 _And all of the ghouls come out to play_

 _And every demon wants his pound of flesh_  
 _But I like to keep some things to myself_  
 _I like to keep my issues drawn_  
 _It's always darkest before the dawn_

 _And I've been a fool and I've been blind_  
 _I can never leave the past behind_  
 _I can see no way, I can see no way_  
 _I'm always dragging that horse around_

 _All of his questions, such a mournful sound_  
 _Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground_  
 _So I like to keep my issues drawn_  
 _But it's always darkest before the dawn_

 _Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa_  
 _Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa_  
 _And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back_  
 _So shake him off, oh whoa_

 _And I am done with my graceless heart_  
 _So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart_  
 _'Cause I like to keep my issues drawn_  
 _It's always darkest before the dawn_

 _Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa_  
 _Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa_  
 _And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back_  
 _So shake him off, oh whoa_

 _And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back_  
 _And given half the chance would I take any of it back_  
 _It's a fine romance but it's left me so undone_  
 _It's always darkest before the dawn_

 _Oh whoa, oh whoa..._

 _And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't_  
 _So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road_  
 _And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope_  
 _It's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat_  
 _'Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me_  
 _Looking for heaven, found the devil in me_  
 _Well what the hell, I'm gonna let it happen to me_

-Florence and the Machine, _Shake It Out_

* * *

Cedric closed the door behind him, taking pains to make as little noise as possible. Went Sofia fell truly and deeply asleep he couldn't bring himself to wake her. Soon enough he'd have no choice; she'd have to leave before anyone became suspicious of her whereabouts.

He padded down the stairs dressed in his shirt and pants. He would have enjoyed lying in bed all afternoon with her nude body pressed against his. Enjoyed it too much. That's why he had to leave. He needed to distance himself, to prepare for the moment when she walked out the door and they agreed to act as if this never happened.

Sitting heavily down on his stool, he wished he could credit the weary feeling in his bones to an afternoon of truly spectacular sex, but that was only a fraction of it. He knew he cared about Sofia, knew he cared more than was seemly given their ages and positions in life, but he hadn't suspected how deeply his feeling ran. An onslaught of images assailed him, possibilities for her future, none of them featuring him. He couldn't bear to think on it at the moment.

He rubbed his hands over his face, feeling tired. A vibrant splash of pink caught his eye. It was a book sitting conspicuously on his workbench. The garishly bound tome was most certainly not one of his.

"Madam du Bois' Big Book of Love Potions?" He read out loud, sneering at the ridiculous title. Definitely not one of his books. He thought back and remembered Sofia bringing it in with her. Hadn't she said something about Amber purchasing it?

Blessedly, fraudulent potions were something he could bear to think on, and a welcome distraction at the moment. He thumbed through the pages, mildly amused by the unmitigated rubbish printed in front of him. This Du Bois character, and he seriously doubted that was her real identity, was nothing but a charlatan. It wasn't surprising; The magic field was full of them. This book seemed just the sort of claptrap Amber would fall for.

In his thumbing he came to a curiously marked page, the corner dog-eared. "Fountain D'engouement," he murmured, skimming his finger over the page as he read. What he saw made the back of his neck tingle in alarm. Madame Du Bois might be a fraud, but not all her potions were. This one was probably stolen from another sorcerer or witch's spell book. This "Madame" probably didn't know what a dangerous potion she'd printed for the masses. These were strong ingredients.

"Warm feelings of affection," he murmured, reading further. "Coupled with lustful desire and lowered inhibitions. Well, I should say so when you've got heartstring buds mixed with Lover's Knot. Why any person foolish enough to ..."

He didn't get to finish the thought because there was a knock at the door. He momentarily panicked, taking in his semi-dressed state. _Merlin's mushrooms_ , he wondered, _who could that be?_ "Just a moment."

A quick search found his robes on the floor of his study. He threw them on and ran a quick hand through his hair, hoping he didn't appear too rumpled. When he opened the door he blinked in surprise, finding Princess Amber standing in the hallway.

"Oh Cedric, good you're here. Did Sofia find you earlier?"

"Um," he considered his options. Best to stick to as much truth as he could. "Yes, she was here."

"You were able to help her with that little problem, I trust?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Problem?"

"The antidote."

"Antidote?" He had no idea what she was talking about.

"The antidote to the potion," she said slowly, as if she found him beyond stupid.

"Wha...?" His eyes shifted to the side, thinking. No, she's certainly hadn't mentioned any potion or antidote. What in the world was Amber on about?

His eyes widened when a truly terrible notion lit upon his mind. He was across the room in two long strides, coming back with the vile pink book in his hands. He thumbed through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. "This potion?"

Amber rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Yes, that potion. Didn't Sofia explain any of this?"

He was only half listening, lost inside his own mind, trying to piece together the fragmented bit of information. All he could come up with was, "Um."

"I told her none of this was necessary," she groused, more to herself than anyone else. "I told her my potion making skills were rubbish. Besides, it wasn't my fault. If she hadn't startled me I wouldn't have dropped and entire cauldron on her. I should be getting ready for the ball, not-"

"Wait," Cedric stopped her with his raised hand. "You spilled an entire cauldron of this stuff on her?"

"Just a small cauldron," she twisted her hands, sensing she might be in trouble. "But you were able to help her, right? Right, Cedric?"

"What?" He came back from where he'd been, lost in his own thoughts. "I mean, yes, she'll be fine."

If he sounded miserable or if all the blood suddenly drained from his face, she failed to notice. "Oh good. Do you know where is she now?"

"How should I know?" He tried not to sound too defensive. "I assume she went back to the celebration."

"Good. Good," Amber bit her lip, still twisting her fingers. "I hope she's not too mad at me. I was supposed to come check up on her over an hour ago."

He sighed, sounding weary. "Oh that you had."

"What?"

"Nothing. If that's all, I'm sure you'll be in a hurry to get back."

"Indeed." She held out her hand, "Can I have my book back, please?"

"No." His eyes narrowed in reproach. "You have no idea what damage you have done ... I mean, could have done, with this book. It is not for the hands of an amateur who likes to play at making potions. Come to think on it, why exactly did you make that potion in the first place?"

"That," she crossed her arms over her chest defensively, "is none of your business. I'll thank you to watch your tone."

"Perhaps it's not my business, but a barely proficient teenager brewing potions inside the castle walls is a matter for the King and Queen, don't you agree?" He was bluffing. There was no way in the seven hells he was telling anyone anything about this disaster.

Amber paled. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Fine," she muttered, "Keep the damn book."

He watched her stomp down the hall before closing the door. His feet carried him back to his bench and he sat heavily upon the chair. The Vile Pink Book From Hell as he was beginning to think of it, sat there glaring at him. He opened to the page in question, searching its contents for some means of exonerating himself from the accumulating weight of guilt threatening to crush him.

But that wasn't going to happen. He was a royal sorcerer too adept at his craft to feign ignorance. Potion-making was his specialty and he knew all too well the repercussions of their effects. Some potions could coerce, others cajole, this one subjugated. In the appropriate dose this particular potion would influence a person's will, subtly whispering suggestions through physical manifestations. A little bit could be unethical, a lot could be disastrous. Such a concentrated amount as Sofia experienced would render a person's own will imperceptible. She would have been enslaved inside her own body, overpowered by the sensations coursing through her.

Right now was one of the times he wished he could be the man his mother wanted him to be: Unfeeling, uncaring, a dark and brutal conjurer only interested in power and how to get it. That man wouldn't care for the girl dosing upstairs in his bed, blissfully unaware that she'd been violated, despoiled by someone she trusted. That man wouldn't be bothered by the inconvenience of a conscience. He wouldn't trouble himself with paltry feelings of shame and remorse. And he wouldn't know what it was like to feel his own heart breaking.

* * *

Sofia blinked her eyes open, only to shut them at once. The sun's rays felt like hot needles digging their way into her skull. Curling deeper against the pillows, she took a deep breath against the pain. The pillows smelled like sage and sandalwood: Cedric.

She peeked out from beneath her lashes, letting her eyes adjust to the light slowly. The bed beside her was empty, but still warm. She bit her lip, covering her embarrassed flush with her hands. She couldn't believe what she'd done. Images of the afternoon replayed in full color and sound through her mind. The whole thing had been so deliciously naughty; and if Sofia the First of Enchancia was anything, "deliciously naughty" was not it.

When she stretched she reveled in the languid ache in her muscles, remembering how she acquired them. This is not what she had in mind for the day. This was not what she had in mind for her life. Despite what she said earlier about half the princesses in the realm, she expected that she would be in the other half, the group that fell in love and waited until their wedding night to make love for the first time. Looking at it from a new perspective she didn't see the importance of waiting. And she could certainly see why people were driven to great distraction to engage in the pleasures of the flesh.

She giggled to herself. Pleasure had been the paramount sensation. She nuzzled the pillow remembering the feel of his lips, his hands, his tongue, his ... Well, she could go on and on. Was there any part of her he hadn't touched? Though there was no one to see it, she blushed again, remembering that he had indeed touched dark places no one ever had.

In her mad rush to convince him to engage in this tryst she'd said something along the times of "just this once". The potion proved so strong she would have promised him the moon and stars to simply touch her. Even without the potion, though, she didn't want this to be a one-time arrangement. She'd never considered how one would go about arranging a secret affair, but they already had the perfect cover. No one thought twice about her visiting his tower. She'd spent whole days, from just after breakfast to dinner time, locked away behind his door. Of course at those times they truly had been engaged in innocent distractions, working out a complicated incantation or puzzling out an ancient artifact. Who was to know if they spent their time dedicated to more salacious pursuits?

She could barely believe the wild turn her thoughts had taken. She'd have to remember to thank Amber, even if she couldn't tell her what she was thanking her for.

Bounding up from the bed, she was excited to find him. But she sank back down when a wave of nausea hit. She held her head in her hands while the room spun.

"Oh, ugh," she moaned. A fierce shivering suddenly seized her body. Was this the effects of the potion wearing off? If so, it was awful. Groping around with her hands she found her shift and pulled it over her head before wrapping the coverlet over her shoulders. She felt far too wretched to wriggle into a corset and stays.

With one hand on the wall for balance, she stepped lightly down the stairs. Downstairs Cedric was seated in his customary spot, hunched over his worktable. His shoulders slumped with his head hung low between them. His hands were in his hair. She saw a book open before him and a tender smile touched her face. It was just like Cedric to get lost in some spell book no matter how fantastical the world around him.

She padded silently over, running her shaking hands over his shoulders. He started, pulling away from her to stand. He looked miserable and she knew immediately something terrible had happened.

"What's wrong?"

His mirthless bark of laughter sounded more like a yelp of pain. His voice sounded strangled and rough. "Amber came looking for you."

Gathering the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she couldn't seem to stop shaking. "I'd forgotten she was supposed to."

"She asked me if I was able to make that antidote for you."

"Oh." Her eyes dropped to the floor.

"Yes," his voice rose with feeling. His finger jabbed at the open pages of the book on his desk. "The antidote for this."

Sofia didn't need to look to know what he spoke of. So he knew about the potion and her duplicity. "I can explain," she began. "I didn't mean to lie to you. I'm sorry."

"Please," he held out his hands to stop her. "Please, do not apologize to me."

She felt the burn of unshed tears and hoped she didn't start crying. "I know how you hate lying. I should have told you the tru-"

"Merlin's ghost, Sofia!" His face was tight with anguish. "Stop apologizing to me."

His intensity made her blink. She was so groggy it was hard to think straight. If he wasn't upset about her dishonesty, then what was he upset about? She swayed on her feet.

"Here, sit down," his voice softened as he indicated the empty stool.

Her teeth chattered. "What's wrong with me?"

"You're going through withdrawal. You've been exposed to dangerous levels of neurotoxins." He continued on, rattling off a list of polysyllabic words that she didn't understand. He chanced a glance at her, seeing her confusion. "You've absorbed a lot of impetus components. The ingredients in that potion are quite strong. You'll be fine, but you'll most likely feel poorly for the next day or so."

All through his long explanation he hadn't been looking at her. He appeared to be looking anywhere but at her. She wanted to talk to him, to bring up the elephant in the room. What she managed to say was, "I'm thirsty."

"Of course." He shook himself out of some sort of reverie. He left the room and came back with a tea cup in his hand. "Drink this. It's cold, but the sugar will do you some good."

"Thank you."She mumbled, not knowing what else to say. When she took the cup from him, their fingers brushed. Her eyes flew to his, becoming momentarily lost in their warm, chocolate depths. The look lengthened, but Cedric turned away first, a slight flush brightening his face. "Cedric-"

"You should get dressed," he interrupted. "You'll catch a cold."

He was gone from the room before she could respond. She sipped cold tea and the cool liquid felt good on her parched throat. This painful awkwardness between them had her drawing the blanket tighter around her shoulders, acutely aware of her state of dress. A headache began pounding between her temples.

He came back with a pile of crinoline and lace draped over his arms. She didn't feel like she had a smile in her, but apparently she did. He looked adorably awkward.

"I meant it," she said, desperate to ease the tension between them. "I am sorry I lied to you. I know you're upset, but ..."

The look of wretched pain on his face made her words die in her throat.

"You don't understand," he whispered.

"What don't I understand?" She beseeched, wanting only to ease his torment.

"Sofia-"

"What happened to Fee?"

He forged on, ignoring her interruption. "The potion Amber spilled on you was a powerful one."

"I understand that. I learned potion making from you, the best teacher anyone could ask for. I understand that it made me act in a rather ... unorthodox way, but-"

His eyes pierced through her like arrows. "You couldn't have said no, even if you wanted to."

There it was; the dark truth lurking in the shadows of the room, written between the lines of his long-winded explanation about potions and effects.

Sofia blinked, momentarily stunned as the meaning of his words sunk in. The wheels of her mind churned sluggishly. "You're not mad that I lied."

"Merlin's mushrooms," he muttered. "You're not hearing me. There was no 'you' left to tell me anything. Anything of truth anyway. You're not to blame for any of this."

Eyes still averted from her, He went back to sorting through the articles of her clothing. He spoke as if they were talking about something as benign as the weather instead of the heated loss of her innocence not an hour ago at his hands. His strange, unaffected calm unnerved her.

She stood up, unmindful of the coverlet slipping from her shoulders. Her body continued to shake and she had to steady herself again the table, but she was determined to reach past the barriers he was erecting between them. "I'm not to blame, but you are?" She tried to lay a hand on his arm, but he moved effectively out of her reach. "What are you saying Cedric? That you think you, what, took advantage of me?"

"I don't _think_ anything." His emphasis on the word think concerned her. "Here."

He thrust her corset at her and she took it, feeling numb. He was wrong. Of course, he was wrong. She wanted to argue with him, but he'd turned his back on her, allowing her privacy to dress. That he felt the need to do so filled her with self-conscious embarrassment.

She fumbled with her clothes, too stunned by the unexpected turn in his demeanor for even tears. Valiantly she tried to ignore the uncomfortable silence between them. She tried not to dwell on the gutted, hollow feeling carving its way into her belly. Not an hour before he'd made love to her, treating her with a tenderness and passion that both surprised and captivated her. His cold attitude, dismissing anything she said, made her feel small and insignificant by comparison. She secured her petticoats before turning her back to him. "I need your help. I can't tie the laces on my own."

When his hands touched her back, she tried not to remember how those hands had brought her such pleasure. Too overwrought to contemplate his stony countenance, she searched for something she could bear to think on. He'd make a terrible lady's maid. He was reluctant to pull too tight but she still felt like the air was being squeezed from her lungs. How could he think she didn't want what happened between them?

She pulled her dress over her head, before tying the sash. While she fixed her dress, she tried hard to regrouped. It was difficult to think with this headache threatening to split her skull in two.

When she was presentable again, she turned to find him searching inside a side cupboard.

"Cedric." He didn't answer her, so she shuffled over on shaky feet, grabbing his hand. Her own felt like ice. She remembered the tender touch that had started all this, her taking his hand. "Please look at me."

He wouldn't. Instead he turned away, pulling the bell cord that rang down in the castle kitchens. A maid would be there soon to answer the call. She was running out of time. She dogged his steps, her aching head and shaky legs be damned.

Desperate, she cried, "For heaven's sake, Cedric, look at me!"

When he did she almost wished he hadn't. Raw pain was written across his wonderfully expressive eyes. "What would you have me do, Sofia? I am the royal sorcerer of Enchancia. I of all people should have recognized the signs, that you were not yourself. Instead, I-"

His jaw clenched, unable to finish the thought.

She grabbed him suddenly, wrapping her arms around him. "No," was all she could say, and again, louder, "No."

She pressed her face against the warmth of his neck. The fierce shivering of her body continued unabated. She couldn't control it. It was a harsh reminder of the potency of the potion that had thrust the two of them into this unhappy situation. She longer for him to comfort her, to tell her it was going to be alright. That they were going to be alright.

Instead he remained stiff in her arms, already beyond her reach. Extracting himself gently from her grip, he spoke, "You need to rest." He held up two small vials in his palm, one was blue, the other purple. "Take this to help you sleep. When you wake drink the other one; it will help with the symptoms."

She took them both with shaking hands. His detached demeanor scaring her. What could she do? What could she say to pull him from the black mood he'd settled into? She searched his face with wide, confused eyes. "Cedric?"

All of a sudden she was in his arms. He hugged her to him fiercely. His right hand cupped the back of her head as his lips whispered against her hair. The broken, desperate tenor of his voice brought tears to the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sofia. I am so sorry."

She opened her mouth, but a knock at the door interrupted anything she might have said. He was away from her in an instant.

He opened the door, admitting a young maid. "Tessa, is it? Princess Sofia isn't feeling well. I've given her some medicine to take. Please escort her back to her room so she can rest. I don't believe she'll be attending the ball this evening."

"Of course, Sir." Tessa bobbed a curtsy. "If you'll come with me, Princess. If you pardon me saying so, you don't look at all well. Should I have Mister Baileywick summon the doctor?"

"No, no need," Sofia mumbled, allowing the girl to take her by the arm. She didn't feel she had a choice in the matter. Cedric was dismissing her like a sick child who needed to toddle off to bed. Feeling a sickness in both body and heart, she lacked the will to stay and fight. All at once she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bed far away from anyone's prying eyes.

Even so, as she trailed Tessa down the hall she couldn't help but to look back. Cedric was watching her, his eyes shaded with pain.

He closed the door with a deceptively gentle thump. He wanted to slam it off the hinges. He wanted to scream. Instead he leaned back against the solid weight of the door before sliding down to sit on the floor.

What had he done?

By all the deceitful deities, what had he done?

* * *

Author's Note: Ouch. That hurt to write. Originally I planned to write a sequel (stay with me) but now I think I'll just continue on adding chapters to this story. So, this is not the end. Spoiler alert: I hate sad endings.

P.S. I'm not trying to make Amber out to be a bitch. She's just defensive because she screwed up and she knows it.

While writing this chapter I got the idea for a fun fic. Pure fluffy smut from beginning to end with a guaranteed happy ending. No title just yet but I have the entire story mapped out from beginning to end. That's usually the hardest part for me. I generally have an idea of a single scene that I want to see and build a story around it. That's why I usually write one-shots and short stories. But this is a full blown multi-chapter romp.

Review make me write faster (Wink wink nudge nudge).


	5. Chapter 5

Intoxication: Chapter Five

* * *

 _Wrapped up, so consumed by all this hurt  
If you ask me, don't know where to start  
Anger, love, confusion  
Roads that go nowhere  
I know that somewhere better  
'Cause you always take me there_

Came to you with a broken faith  
Gave me more than a hand to hold  
Caught before I hit the ground  
Tell me I'm safe, you've got me now

 _..._

You say space will make it better  
And time will make it heal  
I won't be lost forever  
And soon I wouldn't feel  
Like I'm haunted, oh, falling

Would you take the wheel  
If I lose control?  
If I'm lying here  
Will you take me home?

Could you take care of a broken soul?  
Oh, will you hold me now?  
Oh, will you take me home?

-Jess Glynne, _Take Me Home_

* * *

The door loomed patiently before her, mocking her indecisiveness. She'd marshaled every ounce of her courage to come here; and now she stood frozen by the insecurities whispering in the back of her mind. She let out a shaky breath and raised her hand only to hesitate at the last moment.

This was silly, a princess quelled by a few planks of wood. Except it wasn't the door itself that gave her pause, but the silence from within.

She'd been coming to this corridor for a decade, increasingly so in the last two years in particular, and not once did she ever hesitate, always eager to see the occupant inside. This was a new experience for her. She'd been having a lot of those as of late.

Yesterday, after she'd followed sweet, unassuming Tessa back to her suite, Sofia hadn't been in much shape to face the ugly, nagging truth of the events that had just transpired between Cedric and herself. Sick to her stomach with a splitting headache, she'd barely been able to pick her shaky way over to the bed after the young maid helped her undress. She was fiercely grateful for the sleep draft Cedric supplied her with. Unconsciousness was a welcome respite from having to endure another moment of feeling the way she did.

She had enough sense to be grateful that Violet, her usual lady's maid, was unavailable. Violet would have noticed that her charge wasn't properly dressed, her corset tied far too loose for Violet's veteran handiwork. She would have asked questions about it, and Sofia was in no shape for an inquiry.

Once under the warm covers she'd fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. She woke the next morning feeling like her eyes had only shut a moment before. The bright morning sun told her it was indeed a new day. Violet came in shortly after, bearing a serving tray with enough food to feed a small army, let alone one teenage girl. While she opened the curtains to let in more light, the maid informed the princess that her parents did not expect her to attend breakfast with the family. Apparently the queen had slipped in sometime during night before to check on her youngest daughter and found her burning with a fever.

Violet laid a cool hand against Sofia's forehead. "Seems to have broken, though. Here Miss, take some tea and have a bite of toast, it will help you get your strength back. I wonder what in the world could have come over you? I don't know of anyone else sick in the castle."

Sofia shrugged delicately and concentrated on looking too worn out for talk. It wasn't hard to do as her head still ached. The shivering had abated though, for which she was grateful. To appease Violet's maternal clucking she nibbled halfheartedly on some toast and managed a few slips of tea. Her stomach rolled violently, threatening to disgorged her meager breakfast. Cringing, she forced the second potion down. Though it wasn't a sleeping spell, it eased her discomfort enough that she fall back into a fitful dose.

When she woke for the second time it was getting on late afternoon. She felt instantly better. The smell of fresh blueberry scones caused her mouth to water and her stomach growled with hunger. Bless Violet and her old-world sensibilities that a full stomach could cure any ill. A new tray sat on her vanity, complete with teapot still seeping steam from its spout.

Sofia clamored out of bed, happy to see her legs felt strong and steady under her. She set upon the food in a most unladylike manner, fairly cramming warm scones into her mouth between slurps of tea. She hadn't eaten a proper meal since breakfast the day before and quite a lot had happened since then. She was just finishing off her second cup when a knock came from the door. A surge of nervousness raced up her belly. When Amber poked her head in Sofia felt keen disappointment, but she tried not to let it show on her face.

Who was she expecting? Cedric? He'd never come to her room before and he certainly wasn't going to start now. It wouldn't be _proper_ , a grown man entering a lady's bedchamber.

"Oh Sofia," Amber looked truly upset. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." The brunette forced a smile onto her face, motioning for her sister to enter. "I felt ill earlier, but I seem to be better now."

"I feel so bad," the blond gushed. "It's all my fault."

A nervous prickling tightened the back of Sofia's neck. Amber couldn't mean ... She couldn't possibly know about _that_ , could she? Cedric wouldn't do something as ill-advised and rash as to tell anyone, would he? Between the pressing matters of sleeping off the infatuation potion and filling her yawning stomach, she hadn't had the time to examine their departure from one another the day before. She had the alarming notion that Cedric believed himself to be the perpetrator of some crime against her.

Amber took her sister's silence as reproach. "I said I was sorry. I know it's all my fault you had to miss the ball. It was splendid, if I do say so myself."

"The ball?" Sofia blinked slowly, trying to shake off the image of Cedric being lead away in chains by royal guards.

"It was only the social event of the season." The blond sank down to sit on the foot of Sofia's bed, as if weakened by the very thought of missing a pressing social engagement.

Sofia sagged in relief. Of course Amber would believe missing a party tantamount to death or disaster. If she didn't know the truth about yesterday then no one did. Amber was the central hub for gossip around the castle. Sometimes Sofia wondered if her sister had a touch of clairvoyance, but only on matters of indiscretion or dishonor. Thank goodness she appeared to be short sighted when it came to her younger sister.

Of course Cedric wouldn't tell a soul. What could he expect to gain except a court marshal and possibly execution for treason. Although no one had been executed in Enchancia for nearly 500 years, Sofia suspected her father might make an exception in this case.

Without the distracting interruptions of pain and illness she suddenly saw through the haze of her foggy brain into the crystal clear memory of the day before. She tried not to squirm in her seat as a barrage of images, punctuated by the remembered sounds of harsh breathing, gasps, and the very occasional moan on her part, played across her mind. She didn't even pretend to listen to Amber's ramblings about matching place settings and coordinating hors d'oeuvres. Her sister could go on for hours in such a vein.

But what was it Sofia had been thinking earlier? She pushed passed the intriguing memory of Cedric bare skin against hers, to the more distressing matter of the conversation they had afterwards. If one could call it a conversation. She was a bit fuzzy on the details, but she could clearly recall the empty, broken look in his eyes. He'd looked so hopeless, hollowed out and desolate. The difference was remarkable compared to the warmth and passion he'd shown before. There was something in what he said, or perhaps it was what he didn't say.

 _"You couldn't have said no if you wanted to."_

She shivered remembering those words, so haunting and rich with subtext. She hadn't wanted to say no; It never crossed her mind. But he clearly thought she would have if not for the potion.

Her mind sputtered to a stop.

If not for the potion ...

 _"You're not to blame for any of this."_

 _"I'm not to blame, but you are? What are you saying Cedric? That you think you, what, took advantage of me?"_

 _"I don't_ think _anything."_

That meant he thought she ... He thought he had ...

She shot up out of her seat before she meant to, causing Amber to come to a sudden halt half way through her dissertation on the one-of-a-kind chandelier dripping with pink heart-shaped crystals.

"I'm sorry Amber, but there's something I have to do." Her mind was racing. She had to see him, to explain. But she was still wearing her shift and she couldn't very well walk through the castle in her under garments, never mind if she no longer cared if Cedric saw her very nearly undressed. She'd have to ring for Violet to help her dress. The maid would be filled with a dozen well meaning questions. Damn it.

"But you haven't even heard the best part," Amber sounded scandalized that Sofia wasn't hanging on her every word. She leaned forward, eager to involve her younger sister in her news. "I found a new suitor who makes Hugo look like the poor cousin of a horse merchant. You remember Zandar?"

Sofia sank back down into her seat, trying to coach her face into some emotion other than dismay. She was going to be here for a while.

Amber manager to while away the hours until dinner time going over ever minute detail about her time with the prince of Tangu. Sofia managed to both bathe and dress as her sister blathered endlessly through the bathroom door, completely undeterred by any distraction or excuse Sofia could invent to hurry Amber along to a conclusion.

"We had such fun talking at brunch I simply lost track of time. That's how I came to be late coming to check on you , but Cedric said you'd already left so no harm done."

"Indeed," Sofia remarked dryly.

* * *

They were almost to the dining room for supper when the blond finally exhausted the topic of her latest paramour. Though the thought crossed her mind, Sofia discarded the idea of making her excuses. It would cause more questions if she didn't join her family for dinner. She never realized how confining her life could be until she had something to hide.

"There she is," her father greeted warmly. "How are you feeling Sofia?"

"I'm all right, Dad. It was just a stomach bug." She kissed her mother on the cheek on the way to her seat.

"Are you sure you're all right, Dear? You still look a little pale."

"I'm fine, Mom."

James was already tucking into his bowl of pumpkin soup. He spoke in between slurps. "You missed one heck of a party yesterday."

"Don't worry, Amber's told me all about it." She shared a conspiratorial wink with her brother. James was well aware how his twin sister could latch onto a subject like a dog on a bone. He was just glad he wasn't on the receiving end this time.

"So, no valentine missing your presence yesterday?" The king asked, wearing a mischievous smile.

Sofia found it hard to meet her father's eye. Knowing she was being ridiculous, she felt her parents could _tell_ somehow. As if the loss of her innocence was written plain across her face for all to see. She felt so irrevocably changed inside, how could it not show?

"Stop teasing, Rowland," Miranda chastised lightly. "Though I will say, there were a few young men who seemed disappointed by your absence."

"Mom," Sofia moaned. "I doubt it was all that bad."

"You should consider yourself lucky." James pushed his empty bowl away. "You didn't have to see Zandar making goo-goo eyes at Amber all day."

James looked fairly uncomfortable and Sofia could understand why. It had to be awkward to watch your best friend making a fool of himself over your twin sister.

Amber primped, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I can't help it if I'm irresistible."

Rowland paled, an expression similar to his son's coming over his face. Miranda patted her husband's hand comfortingly. "Our babies are growing up," she said, smiling softly.

Dinner went like normal after that, largely dominated by Amber's stories about something oh-so interesting or funny Zandar said. Sofia had to wait until dessert to make her excuses and slip away.

Finally she was here, standing in the dimly lit corridor of the north tower with her hand frozen inches above Cedric's door. What she was afraid of she wasn't entirely sure, but if she had to take a guess she was terrified that he'd open the door and equally anxious that he wouldn't.

Really that was only the tip of her proverbial iceberg. She'd never been in the position of confronting a lover. She didn't even know where to begin. What was she supposed to say to the person she'd unexpectedly and unconventionally lost her virginity to? Thank you came to mind, but that hardly seemed appropriate given their current circumstances. She had to focus. She wasn't here for her, but to straighten Cedric out of his very misconstrued thinking.

She recognized that without the intervention of Amber's ill-conceived potion, yesterday never would have happened. But she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Being with Cedric has been, dare she say, fun. Most of her friends had shared stories of awkward fumbles in the dark, some pleasant, but more often painful. She doubted anyone she knew had enjoyed losing their virginity as much as she had. Her cheeks burned and her heart sped up a beat at the memory.

But it didn't matter. Even though she couldn't file the incident away in the mistake column of her mind, it still shouldn't have happened and could not be repeated. She'd heard tell of too many stories of what happened to servants who dallied with the aristocracy. If the truth ever came to light, her reputation would remain unblemished, the story swept efficiently under the rug, but word of an affair, even one consensual on all accounts, would result in Cedric's immediate dismissal. Even if she couldn't be with him, she still wanted to be near him. And she certainly didn't wish to be the cause of him losing his job. Even a royal sorcerer let go without references and whispers of a scandal would find it hard to ensure future employment.

There were so many layers of deception, of necessary secrecy, that it made her headache to contemplate all the ways things could go wrong; In all of them Cedric would be the one to pay the price. Best to take things one crisis at a time. The most pressing matter was convincing Cedric he hadn't taken advantage of her while she was in a compromised state.

She willed her hand to move. Her knock echoed off the empty walls, followed by a resounding silence. Jarring to her already frayed nerves, she knocked again, wanting him to answer if only so she didn't have to feel the anxiety of waiting anymore. Nothing happened. She tried the handle, but it was locked. When she looked under the gargoyle's toe she blinked stupidly at the bare space beneath. The key was gone.

Such a small object, easy to misplace or loose, but the message was clear to her. That spare key had always been there, ready to admit her no matter if the door was locked or the tower's prickly occupant was not at home. Sofia had often admitted herself; using that spare key to garner entrance, she'd snuggle up in an empty chair in the study and settle in with a book to await his return. Now it was gone, and with it any chance for a confrontation on her terms. She couldn't come in unless he chose to open to door.

The message was clear; Cedric did not wish to see her.

* * *

He listened to the sound of her receding footsteps, silently cursing himself for his cowardice. He wasn't even aware he could mark the exact sound of her steps, the fluid staccato of her gait, until he heard someone approach and knew without a doubt it was Sofia. She deserved the chance to face him, to unleash whatever wraith she could muster, but he couldn't bear to face her. Couldn't bear to imagine the pain and anger and hatred that would burn in her blue eyes, making them come alive with fire. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was her face alight with pleasure, and the memory left a sour taste in his mouth. Sleep never came. Her lavender scent clung to his pillows. The desire to lay down surrounded by her calming scent was tempting, but he wouldn't allow himself such selfish comfort. He'd spend the night, and all this day thinking every terrible, disparaging thought about himself. Rehashing every insult anyone ever threw his way, and inventing several more. His battered conscience berated him over and over and still he felt he deserved so much worse. Yet he still shrank away from facing the one person who could truly cut his to the core. All Sofia need do was look at him with her innocent eyes full of betrayal and he'd perish where he stood. Or wish that he had.

Of all the screw ups in his life this was by far the worst. He'd managed to destroy his best friend, the woman he apparently loved, in a whirlwind of selfish lust. If he'd taken a split second to stop and think he would have recognized the signs that she was under the influence of something, acting contrary to her normal behavior. A spell or potion should have been his first thought when she came on to him, not the ludicrous idea that she actually wanted him. What a preposterous notion! She was an uncommonly beautiful princess in the first flush of youth and he was a cantankerous, snappish sudo-sorcerer closing in on his middling years.

The unfairness of it all was almost too much for even his jaded soul to take. If his life had prepared him for nothing else, it had certainly trained him to deal with disappointment. He'd been handed the thing he wanted most in the world, and it wasn't power or prestige. If Sofia had given her body to him freely, he would assume her heart came with it. That was her way. Discovering that her motives were guided by a potion had torn all the illusions away.

Every murmur, every moan had been a lie. He could only imagine how she felt about him now, knowing how readily he'd twisted their innocent friendship into something dark and lewd. It was a wonder that armed guards hadn't come to drag him to the dungeons by now. He wasn't sure the castle had a dungeon, but, even so, he was certain the king would find a place for him, most likely at the end of a noose.

Except that wasn't Sofia's style. She wasn't the type to run for help no matter the circumstances. She was plucky and persistent and she would hound him until he had no choice but to see her. That her usually moxie has failed her just now was a minor setback. She'd regroup and be back tomorrow. He really owed her that confrontation, but he wasn't sure his poor heart could take it.

His cowardice shamed him.

How could he stay in the same castle with her knowing how he felt? What he did? How could he expect her to endure his presence? He'd be the worst kind of villain to force her to share space with the man who defiled her, never mind the extenuating circumstances.

He realized then how complacent and comfortable he'd gotten with his position in life. All his life it had been expected, all but written in stone that he would succeed his father as royal sorcerer. Even his lack luster skills hadn't mattered. A position of prestige and power had suited his sensibilities well and he'd never given thought to what else he might do. Except for that short, embarrassing period when he schemed to overthrow the monarchy. But that hadn't been a serious attempt, more of a cry for help.

One answered by Sofia.

She was a never ending well, and he just took and took until there was nothing left for her to give. He owed her so much. Much more than his could ever hope to offer as penance. But if he was no longer royal sorcerer of Enchancia, what else could he be?

He may never have given it much thought before, but now he feared the answer to that very question needed to present itself sooner rather than later.

* * *

True to form, Sofia was back the next morning. Her back straight, her eyes bright, she was determined that this time she was not going to be turned away. She'd knock until Cedric opened the door or her arm fell off, whichever came first. Just as she was turning down the north hall, she came across Baileywick making his morning inspections.

"Good morning," she chirped, hoping she didn't appear too hurried. Dipping her head in greeting, she continued on without stopping.

"Good morning, Princess." The steward paused in his examination of the gleaming banister on the main staircase. "If you're going to see Mister Cedric, he's not in residence today."

She stopped, feeling like she'd been caught doing something illicit. Reminding herself that to everyone else it was entirely normal for her to visit Cedric's tower, she schooled her face into a mask of mild confusion. "Ced ... Er, Mister Cedric's not here? Did he mention where he was going?"

"I didn't ask. He sent word to the king and his majesty did not require his services today, so he was free to go."

"Any idea when he'll be back?"

"Sorry, but no. Is there anything I can assist you with?"

Her shoulders sagged in disappointment. "No, thank you, Baileywick."

She trudged back to her room, feeling keenly agitated. How was she supposed to speak to Cedric if he kept avoiding her like bad case of dragon pox? The suspense was wearing on her nerves. She barely slept last night, thinking over what she could possibly say, let alone how to go about saying it. She just wanted to have it done with.

He really was making matters worse than they needed to be. She supposed his reaction was understandable given the odd circumstances. Exactly how was a man supposed to react when a young woman threw herself at him, only to discover afterwards that she was really drunk on infatuation potion? Goodness, couldn't anything in her life be ordinary? Just once she'd like to experience a problem an average girl her age could relate to.

Sitting down at her vanity, she massaged her throbbing temples. Her head felt filled to the brim with too many questions and too few answers. What she needed was a confidant; Someone she could unburden her troubled conscience to without fear of judgment or reprisal. Everyone inside the castle was immediately out of the question. In fact, any member of royalty, aristocracy, or nobility was out of the question. Despite having many friends, she'd witnessed too many instances where backstabbing and gossip ruined more than a reputation.

Glancing down, her eye was caught by the light glinting off the purple jewel lying across her chest. The amulet had remained curiously quiet this entire time, so she couldn't feel she'd done anything too untoward or she'd be looking down the business end of a nasty curse right now. On the other hand, she wasn't sure she wanted the advice of one of the great princesses on this. Fairly certain she'd never come across a story with circumstances like these; it was hard to imagine that any of the famed princesses of the past could sympathize with her on this.

Frustration was a feeling almost completely foreign to her. Doted and coddled, if she wanted something, she usually need only ask. She was unaccustomed to being denied. Her parents had tried to raise all their children with a sense of humility and gratitude, and they had succeeded for the most part, but nothing in her education had prepared her for the grueling disappointment of being jilted by a lover.

She got up and started to pace. Full of nervous energy, she felt she had to get out of the castle. It was a cool, clear day. From the window she could see snow blanketing the garden beds outside, but every walkway was clear. She could go for a walk, but then she'd still be alone with her thoughts. Her eyes drifted beyond the castle grounds to the far skyline of Dunwhitty. The solution, when it came, was so obvious and sudden that she questioned why she didn't think on it before. Drawing out a blank sheet of stationary, she scribbled a hasty message.

Baileywick was still in the foyer when she came back. "There is something you can help me with," she told him. "Please send a messenger to deliver this to the village, and send word to the stable master to saddle my horse."

"As you wish. " He bowed smartly before, strutting off to fill her orders.

Sofia watched the steward leave. It always amazed her how Baileywick managed to run the entire castle so efficiently, and yet never appeared to be in a rush. She wondered if he ever ran through the halls when no one was looking just to keep up appearances.

The thought made her smile for the first time in two days.

* * *

Author's note: Just so no one is losing their minds waiting for an update, I won't put up the next chapter until after Thanksgiving. My mom is having double mastectomy surgery on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and I'm making the 5 hour trip down to take care of her afterwards.

To all my reviewers, you guys are awesome! Your reviews make my day.

I want to thank you all for your fantastic reviews. Prof-shader you mentioned that this version of Cedric is "sensitive and guarded and CHARMING". That really made me smile. I wanted to write characters that were true to the source material but that had believably matured over the past 10 years. Disney canon says Sofia is 8 in the Sofia the First show. She's 18 in my story, so 10 years have passed. I didn't define an age gap for them, but I assume Cedric is in his mid to late 20's in the show. He could certainly be older, but based on his personality (i.e. his awkwardness with the opposite sex, his desire for validation and eagerness to succeed) I suspect he's younger than he appears. I chalk his appearance up to late nights reading spell books and being too absent-minded to take proper care of himself and eat regularly, making him appear tired and worn. I get the feeling Cedric was born to be mid-aged no matter what his chronological age. But I digress, for the purposes of this story I would say he's in his mid to late 30's now. He's had a few things happen in the intervening decade that has mellowed him out, but also caused him to be more guarded and closed off from others. Except Sofia, she's the exception to the rule and the only person he's both the most open with and the most vulnerable around. To everyone else he's still a cantankerous, sarcastic and haughty.

In this version with Sofia's steady influence and encouragement he's now a proficient sorcerer worthy of his title, but he still finds the tasks given him beneath his skill. As I've already hinted at, he's a little bit bitter about his position. Though he's more than capable to fill the shoes of a royal sorcerer he feels more like a pet used to impress visiting dignitaries than a respected magic handler.

Reviews, please.


	6. Chapter 6

Intoxication : Chapter Six

* * *

 _My life started the day I got caught  
Under the covers  
With secondhand lovers  
Oh, tied up in pretty young things  
In a state of emergency  
Who was I trying to be_

 _Then the time for being sad is over  
And you miss them like you miss no other  
And being blue is better than being over it_

-Panic! at the Disco, _Hallelujah_

* * *

"You're too thin, Ceddykins."

Cedric rolled his eyes, immediately regretting his decision to come here.

"I'm fine, Mother," he sulked, bending to kiss her cheek. His mother could be trying at times, but she was a never ending font of maternal comfort and he needed something of substance in his shifting reality.

"Well, don't skulk in the doorway," she chided, ushering him in. He found himself bustled into a seat at the dining room table. With a flick of her wand, Winifred sent pots and pans fly about, filling with ingredients before settling on the lit stove. No matter his objections, his mother always stuffed him with food on every visit. He no longer bothered to protest, knowing to do so was useless against the formidable Winifred the Wise.

"So," she sat down across from him, looking him directly in the eye. "Why are you here?"

He drew back, his hand fluttering to his chest in wounded astonishment. "Whatever do you mean? Can't I visit my own mother without any alternative reasons?"

"You certainly could, but you don't"

His hand dropped. "Fine. I just didn't feel like being in the castle today."

Winifred regarded her youngest child with a calculating eye. Something was off, she could tell. His eyes flickered up to her face before dropping to the floor. It was as if 30 years had rolled back in time and he was a child again standing over the broken remains of his father's favorite vase; The one given to him by Egrette the Eager for saving his village. Her eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" He denied immediately, trying to hold her gaze but failing. With a sigh he folded his arms on the table, and rested his forehead against them. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Was it terribly dreadful, I hope?"

Cedric groaned. Of course his mother would want him to have done something appalling. "This isn't the kind of terrible you'd be proud of."

Her face softened with motherly concern. She reached across the table patting his hand. "Oh Cedric, whatever it is you can tell me."

He merely shook his head. He'd rather cut out his own tongue with a twisting charm than tell his mother of all people.

"Well, whatever it was," she wheedled, "It can't be all that bad. You're not capable of anything nearly so horrible as you think."

His lifted his head up a little, daring to peek at her from over his arm. "Really?"

"You have my head, Cedric, but your father's heart. Bless his soul," she cooed, glancing over at a framed painting hanging above the mantel.

Desperately wanting to direct her attention away from questioning him further, he cast about for another topic of conversation. "Did you really love father that much?"

"Why Ceddy," she scowled, "Of course I did. What a thing to ask."

He squirmed in his seat. His parents always _appeared_ to care for one another, but sometimes Cedric wondered how much of his mother's devotion had been motivated by ambition. "How did you manage it? You and father? You're so ... different from him."

She laughed. "That's an understatement. Well, it wasn't always a picnic. You're father could be so infuriatingly good. But I loved him and he loved me as well. You might not know this, but sometimes I'm no picnic either."

His look was aporetic, but she took no notice, lost in a memory. A wistful smile teased the corner of her mouth and for a moment she looked almost pretty. Cedric could see shades of the ambition young woman that snagged the most eligible sorcerer of their age.

"Sometimes," she smiled gently, "Love means seeing the good in someone even if they can't see it in themselves."

She laid her hands on the table and he could sense there was more she wanted to say, so he waited.

After a moment, she continued. "When I met your father I was on a much darker path. He helped me to see the light. I know he wasn't always the best at showing it, but your father was a very loving man. He never spoke about it, but I could tell the estrangement between you two hurt him deeply."

Cedric snorted, sitting up with crossed arms. "Yes, well, that was the problem wasn't? Father had no problem talking, just never about anything that mattered."

"Don't be too hard on him Cedric. He's gone and the past cannot be changed. Just know your father was very proud of you." Tears polished her brown eyes to a brilliant sheen and he had to look away.

He wilted back against the chair, sulking. Would his father be so proud of him now?

Winifred wiped her tears away, embarrassed by the display of emotion. She got up, moving towards the kitchen. "I'll just see how lunch is coming."

Alone with his thoughts, Cedric's eyes were drawn to his father's portrait. Even in death, Goodwin seemed to scowl at him, disapproving. His father had rarely seen the good in him, no matter what his mother said. It was just as well that he wasn't alive to see his son now. Before his death Goodwin had finally gained what he always wanted: a son he could be proud of, if only to the public eye. But by the time Cedric finally garnered the admiration and acceptance he'd always craved, it felt like a hollow victory.

He avoided examining the dark corners of his mind too closely in regards to his father; None of it mattered now. Any resolution or opportunity for closure was gone with Goodwin's passing. Still, Cedric couldn't help but question why his father couldn't have accepted him before the accolades and praise? Cedric had spent nearly 30 years not measuring up to his father's expectations, resentment that deep couldn't be erased by a few short years of acknowledgement.

Two years had passed, but he could still vividly recall the day he received the unexpected news of his father's passing. King Roland had summoned him to a private meeting, not in the throne room as was customary, but in an ante chamber, instantly setting Cedric's nerves on edge. The king and he had never been friendly with one another, and they only spoke on official business. Even after Cedric stopped blowing up everything within arm's reach and Roland stopped blaming him for every mistake, accurately or not, the king seemed to merely tolerate his presence. His father had once told him that a royal sorcerer's place was at his king's side, but Cedric had never felt comfortable there. Once his abilities and confidence progressed to where he no longer posed an active problem for the King's attention, Cedric came to be regarded more like tool: Useful when it suited his employer; But one that should remain shut away in a tower, out of notice, until called upon.

 _That day when Baileywick ushered him into the meeting with His Majesty, shutting the door behind them, Cedric felt trapped. Roland looked decidedly uncomfortable, awkwardly offering him an empty seat. Cedric perched on the edge of the brocade arm chair, wanting to be anywhere else._

 _The king cleared his throat, looking less like a confident monarch and more a school boy tasked with an unpleasant chore._

 _"Cedric," even his name sounded odd coming from Roland's mouth. "I'm afraid I have to share with you some upsetting news. I received word this morning that your father, Goodwin the Great, passed away last night."_

 _The words had come out in a bit of a rush and it took a long moment for the meaning to sink in. Cedric stared, blinking in confusion. He'd just seen his father not more than a month passed. Goodwin had appeared in perfect health, mocking his son under the pretense of gentle teasing, showing off his numerous awards for the thousandth time, and enjoying a quite game of chess with Princess Sofia. "There must be some mistake."_

 _"I'm afraid not," Roland frowned in sympathy. "The message came directly from your mother. She requested you come right away. I've already ordered the royal carriage readied to take you as soon as you're prepared to leave."_

 _Cedric continued to stare as if frozen in his seat. The king tried not to fidget._

 _"May I say officially that the whole kingdom mourns your loss. Take all the time you need to get Goodwin's affairs in order. He'll have a state funeral. It's the least I can do for such a great man."_

 _Cedric blinked, twice. "Thank you, your majesty. I suppose I should go pack."_

 _As the sorcerer stood, the king took an uncertain step forward. "Are you sure you're all right? Is there anyone I can ..."_

 _Roland trailed off in awkward silence and Cedric knew why. Of course there wasn't anyone. He didn't have friends, only a motley assortment of acquaintances and his mother. The whole kingdom would mourn the loss of their beloved former royal sorcerer, but there was no one to comfort his prickly son._

 _"No, thank you, Your Highness. If you'll excuse me, I should be with my mother at this time."_

 _Cedric pretended not to see the king's relief. Roland's posture relaxed, noticeably reassured to have the burden of offering comfort taken off his shoulders._

 _The moment Cedric entered the hallway a lavender blur launched itself at him. Sofia must have been waiting for him. She hugged him around the middle. "Oh Mister Cedric, I'm so sorry."_

 _Still in a state of numb detachment he noticed that her eyes were red and tear tracks left wet smudges down her cheeks. He patted her awkwardly on the back. "It's all right, Princess."_

 _"No, it's not," she laid her head on his chest, still embracing him. When had she gotten so tall? Why she was practically grown and he'd barely noticed._

 _Her arms shook as she squeezed him tightly. Her voice caught on a hiccupped sob. "When I lost my father ...," her voice quavered. " Oh, you must feel so awful."_

 _He studied her like some particularly interesting insect. Sofia had spent a good amount of time getting to know the famed Goodwin the Great, but her grief seemed to run deeper than that. She was sad for him, on his behalf. His arms slipped around her shoulders, hugging her back. There was someone after all._

 _Her tender comfort opened the first cracks in his reality: His father was dead._

The following days became an indistinct blur of making decisions, accepting empty words of condolences from strangers, and viciously trampling down his own grief. Two years later he was still reluctant to examine the true nature of his feelings towards Goodwin. Since his father's death, Cedric felt like every task set before him, every spell completed, was like putting on a performance for an empty audience.

Merlin's Mushrooms but he'd turned maudlin. Or perhaps life had made him introspective of late. Whatever the reason, he hated it. He didn't enjoy peeling back the many layers of his mistakes, exposing his insecurities to the harsh light of day. His life could be traced down a long line of bad decisions and mistakes. Unrelentingly selfish, even he recoiled to think how he'd recklessly dragged Sofia into his tangled mess of a life. It was a trifle sad if he was being honest. His one true friend and confidant, it was too much to expect her to save him all the time.

The train of his thoughts was broken when his mother set a steaming plate before him. He stared down without truly seeing what was in front of him. It didn't matter; He wasn't hungry.

"Eat," Winifred urged. "Besides, whatever it is you did, I'm sure Sofia has already forgiven you."

He stared at her, his expression going flat. "I didn't say it had anything to do with her."

Winifred chuckled. "I might be entering my dotage, but I'm not daft and I'm certainly not blind. I can't remember the last time you came to visit without her, and probably at her urging too. That you're here by yourself means you two must have had a falling out."

That was one way to put it, he thought sourly.

"Your lunch is getting cold." She tucked a forkful of rice into her mouth, hiding a smug smile. Her son wasn't nearly as much of a mystery to her as he'd like to be. She didn't know what sin he'd committed to beat himself up so severely, but she didn't need the details to know he was most likely being too hard on himself. Cedric was prone to the dramatic, and while he often blamed his failures on anything but himself, there was one aspect of his life where he was inclined to do the exact opposite: Princess Sofia of Enchancia. There was a great deal more Winifred could say on the subject of the unconventional relationship between her son and the youngest heir to the throne, but for now she kept her peace.

Cedric stabbed at a piece of carrot with his fork. "I'm not sure I deserve forgiveness," he muttered almost too quietly for her to hear.

Winifred frowned at that. She knew Sofia's friendship meant a great deal to her son. As the wife and then mother of two royal sorcerers, she knew too well the fickle nature of the aristocracy. Goodwin's gregarious nature allowed him to lounge contently on the fringes of opulence, confident in his place at the palace. He'd been entirely comfortable as the first King Roland's friend and servant. Her Cedric had never followed in his father's footsteps. She understood her son and accepted him for who he was, flawed and far more tender hearted than he cared to acknowledge. She could only hope that he'd learned to keep his heart safe, but she feared when it came to Sofia he was unguarded.

She wasn't a religious woman, but as he watched her only son pick at his food, shoulders slumped in defeated, she sent out a silent wish: That he could find the happiness he so desperately needed and deserved.

* * *

"There you are stranger. I was afraid it had been so long I wouldn't recognize you."

"Ruby," Sofia smiled. Had it really been so long since she last visited? She tried to count back and realized it had been a while, not since the wedding. "Look at you. How far along are you?"

Ruby hugged the princess as best she could, navigating the expanded girth of her belly. "Almost seven months. Just two more to go. Come on in." She shut the door against the cold air.

Sofia shrugged off her thick cape, hanging it up on a peg by the door.

"I hope you don't mind," Ruby was saying as she led her into the warm kitchen. A cozy fire crackled behind the grate beside a table set for four. "When I got your message, I took the liberty of inviting Jade and Lucinda. They'd never forgive me if they knew I let you out of my sight without seeing them."

The princess tried to quell her unease. The whole ride there she'd deliberated how much to reveal about the problem she'd hinted to in her message. Telling Ruby was one thing, but the prospect of unburdening her conscious in front of an audience didn't sit well. "Great," she said aloud, "It will be good to see everyone. How's Jared?"

They whiled away a few minutes discussing Ruby's new life of domestic bliss. Sofia tried not to stare but she kept becoming distracted by her friends rounded stomach. Not that her friend expecting her first child made her uncomfortable, but she was just now realizing how many things she'd over looked in her single minded goal to assuage Cedric's guilt. If she had become pregnant from their interlude, convincing Cedric that the conception was consensual would be a mere footnote in a new, unfolding crisis.

Just as she was on the verge of quiet panic, Jade and Lucinda arrived and Sofia was swept into a whirlwind of chatter and hugs. Jade greeted her warmly while Lucinda chastised her for staying away so long. Sofia had to work at remaining in the present, formulating the appropriate responses. She managed to hold on until they were all seated, sipping tea and nibbling on Ruby's famous sugar cookies.

"So Sofia," Jade leaned forward, squirming like an eager puppy. "How was the Valentine's Day gala? I heard it was gorgeous. Were there really two-hundred peacocks dyed pink to decorate the gardens?"

"What?" Sofia frowned. She really shouldn't put anything past Amber for dramatic effect, but dying animals just sounded cruel. "No. I mean, I don't think so."

Jade cocked her head, confused. "You were there, weren't you? How could you miss two-hundred pink birds?"

"Um," Sofia chewed her lip. A terrible liar, she found it nearly impossible to look into their open, unassuming faces and perpetuate the lie that she'd been sick in bed. "No, I wasn't there. You see, I, um ..."

They each looked upon her expectantly and she broke. Covering her face with her hands, she mumbled pathetically, "I slept with Cedric."

"What?" Ruby asked.

Sofia knew they hadn't heard her clearly, or they wouldn't be so calm. She took a deep breath, saying it again, louder and clearer. She hadn't meant to blurt it out like that, but she couldn't deny that it felt good to finally say it out loud.

There was a stunned pause, and then, "What!?" and "What!?" and "Finally!"

Sofia pulled her hands away from her face to stare at Lucinda, astonished. Ruby and Jade stared too, their mouths hanging open in nearly identical expressions.

"What?" Lucinda shrugged. "If you didn't think those two were eventually going to knock boots then you clearly weren't paying attention."

Sofia continued to gawk at her while the witch smiled back.

Ruby managed to shake herself out of her shock first. "What do you mean you slept with Cedric? Just so we're clear, you mean that sorcerer guy, right?"

"Yes," Sofia closed her eyes against Ruby and Jade's stunned looks. "He's the royal sorcerer of the kingdom to be exact."

"Okay, we got that part," Jade said slowly. "Can you explain the other part? The part where you had sex with him."

"It was kind of an accident." The whole story spilled out: Amber's potion, Cedric's reluctance, her own persistent seduction, and the spiraling aftermath. Even Lucinda lost her cheeky smile, listening with rapt attention. By the end they all sat in stunned silence, but Sofia felt like a weight had been lifted.

"Let me get this straight," Ruby said. "You're not upset about sleeping with him, but you are upset that he believes you didn't want to sleep with him?"

Even Sofia had to take a moment to go over the words in her head before responding. "Yes, and now he won't even talk to me."

"No wonder," Jade sat back, blowing out a puff of air. "Exactly what do you say to the girl you think you raped?"

Sofia recoiled at the word. She'd been avoiding it, even in her own thoughts, although it was clearly how Cedric saw their liaison. "But he didn't," she insisted.

Ruby cleared her throat. "I mean, are you sure? You said yourself that potion was pretty powerful."

Lucinda was all ready shaking her head. "You said it was an infatuation potion. Even the strongest love potion in the world will only make you believe you love someone for a short time. Once the potion wears off you're right back to being yourself. A strong love potion won't stop you from doing something you'll regret later, but an infatuation potion will only increase feelings that were already there."

"Really?" Sofia teetered between relief and confusion. If that was true then the potion had increased feelings that were already there. She knew she liked Cedric and held an attraction to him, but what she felt under the infatuation spell was stronger than anything she was ready to admit.

"We learned all about them in Potions class, and then again in Magical Ethics at Hexly Hall," Lucinda continued. "They crammed it down our throats. They make sure every student understand the difference between all the mood altering potions, but it's beyond unethical to use any ardor potion on another person. He'd know all this, that's probably why he's so freaked out. "

Sofia remembered then that she had introduced Lucinda to Cedric many years before. It was on his letter of recommendation that the young witch had been accepted into the school. A talented magic handler, Cedric had been impressed by her natural skill. He rarely had the interest or opportunity to use his clout as royal sorcerer to influence others and the admissions board at Hexly held his position in high enough regard to take Lucinda on as a scholarship student on his word.

"Clearly," Ruby straightened, looking frighteningly like her formidable mother, "You need to have a talk with him to sort this mess out."

"I know that." Sofia slumped. "But how?"

"Could you send him a message, or something, let him know it's okay to lower the drawbridge?" Lucinda snagged another cookie, dunking it into her tea.

Sofia chewed her lip in thought. "Perhaps."

"Okay," Jade frowned, "So, once you talk to him and clear everything up, then what? I mean, you slept together. You lost your virginity to this man."

Sofia fidgeted, crumbling a piece of cookie on her plate. Jade had always had an overly romanticized view of intimacy, a trait Sofia usually held in common with her. "Then nothing, I guess. We just go one being friends."

"But Sofia," Jade implored, "Is that what you want?"

"I don't really have much of a choice." She glanced at each of her friends. They were being so understanding and it made her feel much better, but they didn't understand the position she was in. "I'm a princess. It's not like we get to date, you know? Even if I felt anything more than friendship for him, I couldn't pursue it. And even if I could, it's not like we could ever get married."

She remembered the words she'd said to Cedric that day:

 _I didn't ask to be a princess. Someday I'll be expected to marry a prince, or a duke, or a count. I know my parents will let me choose who I like, maybe even someone I care for, but I can't choose whoever I like. I can't marry you for instance, even if I wanted to._

 _Can't I choose this for myself?_

Lucinda wasn't kidding about the potion increasing what was already there. It had revealed truths she didn't even know existed inside her. Was she really worried that someday she'd be forced to marry some aristocrat she didn't love? She thought back to the previous night's dinner, her mother's comment about a few disappointed young men. Her parents might not be pushing their children into arraigned marriages like some of her friends' parents, but she couldn't claim that she hadn't felt the mounting pressure to make a good match. Was she really been so desperate to grab something for herself that she'd thrown herself in Cedric's path the first excuse she had. If so, the poor man had never stood a chance.

That line of thought opened a whole other tangled web of questions. Why hadn't she told Cedric about the potion and just gotten the antidote? She could have. The infatuation potion was strong, but she could have held out against it, no matter what Cedric thought. She hadn't wanted to.

"To play devil's advocate here," Lucinda said, breaking the train of Sofia's wild thoughts, "Who says you have to do anything above board? Don't you royals have illicit affairs all the time?"

Until Lucinda suggested it out loud, Sofia hadn't known how tempting the idea sounded. She'd even thought the same thing while lying naked in Cedric's bed.

"It's too risky." Was that disappointment in her voice? Surely not. "If anyone found out, he'd lose his job. I've already put him in jeopardy. If anyone finds out about what happened between us, he'll be fired and the whole thing hushed up. I've heard about these sort of things before. The nobles go on pretending nothing happened while some poor maid, or stable boy, or butler bears the consequences.

"No," she swept the crumbs from her fingertips, sitting back. "It's better this way."

Lucinda reached over to grasp her hand, a frown of genuine sympathy on her normally spirited face. "I'm sorry it's better this way."

"Yeah," Sofia mumbled, looking down at her lap. "Me too."

* * *

Author's Note: This chapter was getting long so I cut it off here. Reviews (insert puppy face here)


	7. Chapter 7

Intoxication: Chapter Seven

* * *

 _I cannot go to the ocean  
I cannot drive the streets at night  
I cannot wake up in the morning  
Without you on my mind  
So you're gone and I'm haunted  
And I bet you are just fine  
Did I make it that easy to walk right in and out  
Of my life?_

 _Goodbye, my almost lover  
Goodbye, my hopeless dream  
I'm trying not to think about you  
Can't you just let me be?  
So long, my luckless romance  
My back is turned on you  
Should've known you'd bring me heartache  
Almost lovers always do_

-A Fine Frenzy, _Almost Lover_

* * *

Sofia felt a little better after leaving Ruby's house. The restorative company of her friends did wonders. Surrounded by the coy games of gossip and intrigue played by nobles, she'd almost forgotten how freeing it felt to speak open and honestly about her problems. By the end of the visit they all agreed that she would be best allowing Cedric the space he clearly wanted. Obviously intent on avoiding her for the time being, she'd have to devise some non-threatening means of opening communication between them.

She didn't like the idea of leaving him to stew with his own thoughts. And it wasn't in her to ignore a problem. By the time she rode back to the castle she'd formulated something of a plan. After handing the reins of her horse over to the stable master, she went to her room to change out of her riding habit and summoned Baileywick. A short talk with the castle steward confirmed her suspicions. Cedric hadn't taken a meal within the castle in the past two days. Under the best of circumstances he was often prone to neglecting his health and well-being, but under stress the man could drive himself to the brink of starvation before he remembered something as inconsequential as food. It was really no wonder he was as thin as a whip.

Ever obedient Baileywick didn't so much as bat an eye when she ordered regular meals delivered to the north tower. She made up an excuse, something about stress and duties, but she needn't have; the steward would follow her orders to the letter without question. She was fairly certain the steward would cheerfully force feed the stubborn sorcerer if a member of the royal family commanded it. So by the time Baileywick bowed smartly, before heading out to fulfill her request, she was already feeling like her optimistic self.

* * *

His hand hovered over the page, unsure how to begin. The letter seemed so simple in his mind. Several crumpled pieces of parchment lay strewn across the desk, a testament to the delicate nature of the missive. At a loss, Cedric set the quill back in its ink pot and rubbed his hands over his face. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of a meal tray, which he'd barely touched.

Curious thing at first, when a servant began arriving regularly every day at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Usually he grabbed whatever was handy from the kitchen, or occasionally rang a maid to bring something up if he was deep in a task. Even then he couldn't recall eating three square meals a day. His profession tended to lead to distraction from trivial matters like food and sleep. He'd eaten better the past few years, but only at the steady insistence of one nosy, stubborn princess.

It didn't take long for him to reason out that this new diet was Sofia's doing. That she cared for his well-being meant that his mother's intuition had been correct: Sofia forgave him. Or she'd never blamed him to begin with. The thought should have been comforting, but somehow it made him feel worse. For years he'd treated the girl with thinly veiled contempt, followed with bear tolerance, until her teenage years when she became an asset as an student, and finally his most troubling development, cordial civility to cover his growing desire for her.

Though he was often prickly and curt with the girl, she'd always shown a growing affection for him. He was often confused by her insistent friendship where no one else in their right mind would bother. He certainly hadn't made it easy on her as a child, but she'd persisted, and by the time she grew into a young woman, they'd become entrenched in a comfortable companionship. One that could have remained comfortable if he hadn't developed less-than-friendly feelings for her. And now here he was feeling the pangs of love for a woman he had no right to. Her refusal to see the worst in him in the past may have been his salvation, but this was too much. He'd taken far more from her than even his dastardly soul could stand.

He picked the quill back up and began to write, determined for once in his miserable life to do the right thing.

* * *

"He what?" Sofia felt her voice rise close to panic.

"Resigned," her father was saying. "It surprised me too. No warning, just handed me his resignation this morning."

"But," she faltered for the right words. "He can't just leave."

King Roland sat on his throne, having summoned his youngest daughter during his morning audiences. "Absolutely not," he agreed. "I told him it was quite impossible. Cedric's family has held the position for generations. Finding his replacement would take months, not to mention quite a bit of political maneuvering."

Roland stood, coming over to take his daughter by the hand. "I need you to talk to him Sofia. He'll listen to you."

"I'm not so sure." She looked away from his earnest gaze.

"Enchancia is in a precarious position right now. Now is not the time to appear weak or unstable."

Worried, she peered up at her father. He was still a handsome man, though wrinkles had begun to set in at the corners of his eyes and grey hair threaded his golden head. "What do you mean?"

"Your brother and sister, even you, are all on the verge of courtship. Don't worry, Sofia, you've plenty of time to make a match. I'm not so eager to see all my children settled down. But it is inevitable, and the kingdom cannot afford to appear divided." He sighed, turning away. "Damn Cedric, why now of all times? The man's always been a little moody, but I never suspected he'd throw away such a prestigious position."

Sofia kept her own peace on that matter. Royal sorcerer was a prestigious position, one worthy of admiration, though Cedric had rarely been treated as such.

"Did he say anything to you about this?" Her father questioned. "Do you have any idea what this could be about?"

She hesitated only a moment. "No," she said. Lies had a way of piling up, and she realized she'd been telling a lot of them lately. "No, he didn't mention it to me. I haven't spoken to him since last week. He's been spending a lot of time in his workshop."

"That's hardly unusual," Roland stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I've refused to accept his resignation for now, but he's a member of my staff, not a slave. If he's determined to leave, I can't stop him."

Sofia's initial panic contorted from fear to confusion before finally settling on anger. She knew very well why Cedric had tendered his resignation. The self-deprecating ass was attempting to run away rather than face her. She felt uncharacteristically uncharitable and furious.

"Please, Sofia," her father said, retaking his seat. "I need you to speak with him. Make him understand that whatever his reasoning, now it not the time for drastic change. Do you think you can do that for me?"

Her answering smile was tight and fierce. "Absolutely."

* * *

Cedric's brooding was unexpectedly interrupted by a loud pounding at the door. His attempt at self-sacrifice had not been well received by the king. Of course the king had no idea why he suddenly wished to vacate the position he'd held for over a decade and Cedric could hardly tell him the truth. Still the regent had summarily shut down his request, leaving Cedric with few options. He could push the issue, forcing the king to accept his decision. His suddenly insistence to leave would be helped if he had a solid plan for what he intended to do once he left the castle.

He'd returned to his workshop to contemplate his options, considering how best to vacate his position with the least resistance, when it suddenly sounded like a band of wild trolls were trying to break down his door.

"Open. The. Door."

The color drained from his face. Though her voice held a rough quality he'd certainly never heard before, it was unmistakably Sofia demanding entrance. It would appear that the moment he'd been dreading for the better part of a week had finally come.

"Cedric!" She pounded loud enough to make him jump. He wondered at the tiny hurricane of fury she'd become. While she had more than just cause to be angry, he wasn't exactly sure which reason she'd settled on. "I'll stand out here all day if I have to."

He straightened his robes, squaring his shoulders. When he twisted the lock, opening the last barrier that had stood between them, he was unprepared for the sight of her. Her blue eyes shown like sapphires. High color brightened her cheeks and lips. The tight set of her jaw and furrowed brow belayed her indignation, but did nothing to diminish her beauty.

For his part, Cedric looked absolutely terrible. Sofia noticed it immediately, but was too incensed to remark on it. Dark circles rimmed his eyes making it look like he hadn't slept in days. She pushed past him, storming directly into the heart of his sanctuary, before she turned on him. "How dare you."

"Do come in," he quipped dryly.

"You're very funny." She folded her arms under her breasts, hugging herself tightly as she paced, too agitated to stand still. "How could you do this, Cedric?"

He closed the door softly. "You're going to have to be more specific. I've committed quite a few sins as of late."

She paused in her pacing, looking him in the eyes for the first time since _that day_. For a moment she had a flashback of his face hovering over hers, looking deep into her eyes while his body sank into her. She pushed the image resolutely away. "I'm talking about your resignation."

"Ah, that." He leaned against the door with his hands folded behind his back

"Yes, that," she hissed. "How could you just try to up and leave?"

"Considering the circumstances," he said carefully, "I thought it best."

"Best for who, exactly?"

"Sofia," he began.

She flinched, unprepared to hear her name spoken from his lips. She'd always enjoyed the tenor of his voice, but there was something in particular about the way her name rolled off his tongue. "No," she snapped. It was petty and unfair, but she didn't want to hear his justifications. He couldn't leave. He just couldn't. A week's worth of frustration and hurt came pouring out of her. "Why? Why did you shut me out? Why couldn't you have just talked to me? I could have explained. Why couldn't you let me do that?"

"Explained what?" His voice hardened. "That I took advantage of you? That at the first suggestion of interest I took you to my bed?"

"As I recall," she interrupted, angry that he seemed to be relegating her to the part of an unwilling puppet. "You took quite a bit of convincing. I would hardly call it a mere suggestion."

"Be that as it may," he gritted his teeth in frustration, determined to finally own his responsibility. "You are the princess of Enchancia, my employer's daughter, and sixteen years my junior, it doesn't matter how convincing you were, I should not have done what I did."

She growled in frustration, turning away to place her hands on the workbench. He was so damned stubborn it made her want to scream. He appeared determined to crucify himself and she decided that martyrdom did not suit him. So how could she convince him that he needed to stay if he was so determined to leave for her own good? "You speak as if I had no say in the matter."

"You didn't. Not really. The potion -"

"An infatuation potion," she cut him off. "No matter how strong the dose, it couldn't create feelings that weren't there. It could only heighten what already existed."

"An entire cauldron of potion could have produced and unorthodox effect."

She turned her head to look at him from the corner of her eye. "Is that what this has all been about? You honestly believed I didn't want to be with you?"

"I can't see why you would," he remarked, his voice deceptively casual.

Sofia suspected he meant more than he let on. Over petty injuries to his pride, Cedric could rail and moan for hours, but when something truly mattered to him, he became withdrawn and quiet. She recognized his attempt to do so now, mitigating the hurt he felt. "And you thought, what? That the rules of potion making would have to cease to exist? That the laws of metaphysics would have to rearrange themselves before I'd willingly let you touch me?"

He shifted uneasily, brow furrowing as he thought over what she insisted was true.

Sofia turned towards him, astonished to realize she was exactly right. He honestly found it easier to believe the impossible than to believe she desired him. She wanted to go to him, to wrap her arms around him in comfort. But she wouldn't stop there. She'd mean to offer a comforting embrace that would head somewhere they both couldn't follow. The desire to approach him and press her lips against his, if only to prove how wrong he was, was almost too strong for her to resist.

She couldn't admit how misguided he was, how much she wanted him, but nor did she want him to believe the worst in himself. And it was desperately import to her that he not leave. A thin trickle of thought at the back of her mind played out the future if he vacated his position here. She'd never see him again. Her high strung emotions had nothing to do with this assertion; if he left the castle they would have no reason to see one another. Their paths would most likely never need to cross.

Panicked but resolved, she knew what she needed to do and it involved more lies and deceit.

"Cedric," she said sternly, making his eyes come up to meet her own. She held his gaze. "I need you to understand me. What happened between us probably wouldn't have transpired without the potion. I can see that. But not because I didn't want it to. Without the intervention of the potion I never would have worked up the courage to approach you with such a proposition.

"I don't regret it, nor do I believe it was a mistake." She kept her voice was steady with effort, hoping to convey all that she couldn't admit out loud, how deeply she regretted doing what was necessary. As a princess she was prepared to make sacrifices for the good of others. She was prepared to do what was necessary, even if it caused her pain. She forged on, "That said, I think we both know that it can't ever happen again. I wouldn't wish to jeopardize our friendship or your position here. There's no need for you to leave out of some sense of misplaced obligation to me."

She took a deep breath, pulling on all her training to keep her expression smooth and calm. She forced nonchalance into her voice. "What happened between us was just sex, Cedric. I already told you, half the princesses in the realm aren't virgins. It's really no big deal. So, you see, this has all been a misunderstanding. I would have gladly clarified the situation a week ago."

He stared, momentarily struck speechless. It dawned on him that perhaps he hadn't hidden away from her for the past week to avoid facing her wrath, but rather he feared her indifference. A pity he only realized it while she was showing him exactly that. A part of him couldn't believe her words. It was unlike Sofia to give all of herself and not feel something. But how could he protest when she was absolving him of all guilt.

After so many years she was adept at reading his subtle tells. Though he still lounged negligently against the door, the darkness in his eyes and the tight set of his jaw told her how deep her words had cut him. The desire to flee his presence stuck her all of a sudden. A terrible liar, she feared that if she didn't leave, the truth would pour out of her, and this charade would be for nothing. If he knew the truth, how deeply she cared, he might wish to leave anyway, believing it best for her.

"Besides," She rambled on, made nervous by his continued silence ,"Dad says now it not a good time for any big changes. The kingdom is in a delicate position, what with James, Amber and myself preparing to-," she found herself hesitating. "Preparing to enter into courtship. Enchancia need to appear strong."

"Of course," his voice was devoid of emotion, but he never took his eyes off her face, "Far be it for me to impede on your future marriage."

She had to look away from his direct gaze. Guilt welled up inside her, bringing a lump to the back of her throat. "Well, it's settled then. You'll stay."

Her words sounded disturbingly final, like a command. That she hadn't asked him directly was not lost on him. Was he unable to disobey because she was his ruler? Or because he loved her? What a tangle web he'd found himself in. Between the two of them, though, he never suspected Sofia to be the spider. Part of him cautioned that he should leave while there was enough of his heart left intact to leave with. Watching her court and marry another would surely kill him.

"Yes," he found himself saying. "I'll stay."

"Good. Well, then," she motioned towards the door he was still blocking. "I must be going."

"Of course," he found himself murmuring polite responses. He moved away to fiddle with an empty vial on his workbench. He felt too hollowed out and empty for embarrassment or discomfiture. That she'd just suggested sleeping with him meant little more than a passing diversion should have filled him with anguish. He was sure that would come later.

She hesitated at the door, feeling the insistence to leave, but reluctant to go. She wanted to feel brave and self-sacrificing for spinning her tale of indifference. Instead she felt curiously disturbed. Desperate to alleviate the sting of her conscience, she said, "We're still friends, right?"

His shoulders jerked as he expelled a short, hard laugh. "Of course, Princess."

He remained turned away from her and she felt uncomfortably alone. Her title never sounded so bereft of feeling, so cold and impersonal.

"I'll see you ...," she grasped for a reason to see him again. Soon. But she came up empty. She'd always come here to spend time with him and she felt very unwelcome at the moment. "Around, I guess."

He nodded his head once, still averted from her. Without any encouragement on his part, she had little choice but to go. So eager to leave a moment ago, now she felt the overwhelming desire to stay. She didn't like leaving things so unsettled between them, but she really had no choice. She'd made her bed and now she had to lie in it.

The closing door sounded disturbingly final and she leaned back against it, needing every bit of its strength. Her eyes burned and she blinked furiously to hold back the tears that began to gather there. She couldn't start crying here. There was too much hallway between here and her room, too many well-meaning servants who would stop to question her. A hiccuping sob broke from her throat and she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle it.

Wiping ineffectually at her tears with the sleeve of her dress, she hurried along the corridor with her head down. The dash to her quarters seemed to last an eternity. Once safely locked behind her closed door, she flung herself on the bed, not caring if she were acting like a child, and wept.

* * *

Author's Note: I apologize if this chapter felt rushed. I stuffed a lot of things in there. I was going to write two separate chapters but felt like I was milking the whole Cedric and Sofia not talking thing. Cedric believing he took advantage of Sofia is a sub-plot, not the main conflict of the story and I felt like I had to do away with it already.


	8. Chapter 8

Intoxication: Chapter Eight

* * *

 _My 9 to 5 is cutting open old scars  
Again and again 'til I'm stuck in your head  
Had my doubts, but I let them out  
You are the drought  
And I'm the holy water you have been without_

 _And all my thoughts of you  
They could heat or cool the room  
And no, don't tell me you're crying  
Oh, honey, you don't have to lie_

 _Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of it  
I just got too lonely, lonely, whoa  
In between being young and being right  
You were my Versailles at night_

 _It was the fourth of July  
You and I were, you and I were fire, fire, fireworks  
That went off too soon  
And I miss you in the June gloom, too  
It was the fourth of July  
You and I were, you and I were fire, fire, fireworks  
I said I'd never miss you  
But I guess you never know  
May the bridges I have burned light my way back home  
On the fourth of July_

 _I wish I'd known how much you loved me  
I wish I cared enough to know  
I'm sorry every song's about you  
The torture of small talk with someone you used to love_

-Fall Out Boy, _Fourth of July_

* * *

Sofia checked her reflection in one of the tall mirror set into the ballroom wall. She appeared fresh and flawless, not a hair out of place. Of course, it was easy to appear relaxed and well rested when you had an army of servants to help complete the illusion. While preparing for the Spring Fete, the opening event of the social season, Violet had powdered her face, smoothing a bit of rouge over Sofia's cheeks and lips without comment on the dark circles under the princess's eyes. With the help of expensive creams and tonics, Sofia's skin appear ethereal, glowing with youthful beauty. She was well-trained to play her part and she eased into it flawlessly, pushing her true feeling deep down where they couldn't be disturbed until she was safely alone.

She smoothed her hand over the pale lavender of her watered silk gown. Despite being her usual color, pale pastels were in style this season. Dresses in light shades of pink, purple, blue and yellow danced past in a kaleidoscope of color. The ballroom was awash in opulent splendor. Enchancia was a favored destination for several neighboring kingdoms and manors. The cream of the nobility was in attendance tonight, many vying for the attention of the Enchancia heirs. Sofia felt a bit like a rare specimen on display at the zoo. All the extra attention, fraught with expectations, made her feel deeply uncomfortable. Despite her misgivings, she squared her shoulders, reiterating her new purpose and mission. The winter thaw brought promise of a fresh spring and she was determined to shed the melancholy of the past two months.

The memory of the long weeks between February and April hung over her like a grey cloud. She'd never been one to fall victim to melodrama, but since the day she left Cedric in his workshop, she'd felt uncharacteristically empty. They'd seen each other since then, not an unexpected occurrence even in a castle as large of this, but only at social occasions and never alone. Once or twice they'd exchanged pleasantries in the hallway, but those few conversations were strained and short. She had initiated all interaction and he always appeared anxious to leave her company. She realized quickly how naive her hope was that they could just go back to the way things were before.

It took several weeks, but she'd changed her mind: Valentine's Day had been a mistake, just not how she originally assumed. Though there was no longer any specific reason they should avoid each other, she'd lost her friend all the same. A fleeting afternoon of ecstasy did not seem just payment for the long weeks of estrangement. She missed spending lazy afternoons curled in front of the fire in his study. She missed pouring over dusty tomes in search of some archaic spell or potion. She missed drinking tea and debating the merits of Latin incantations versus Sanskrit. She missed _him_.

At first she thought it was fascination born from her new, unexpected carnal knowledge of him, but as time dragged on her longing softened to a hollow yearning to see him set to some mundane task or commonplace chore. She'd gladly clean cauldrons or dust potion bottles while he sat in quiet contemplation over some small bit of obscure magic just to be in his company.

But she couldn't deny that she missed more than that. Often in the dark of night when she couldn't sleep, which had become commonplace recently, she'd close her eyes and replay as much as she could remember about that stolen afternoon. The potion rendered bits fuzzy, but some parts stood out in sharp relief. She remembered the feel of his skin, the movement of muscle over bone as she grasped his shoulders, how soft his hair felt slipping between her fingers, the weight of his slight body on top of her. She remembered salacious feeling that made her quake with longing.

What she tried _**not**_ to remember were his eyes, and the tremor in his voice when he asked if she was sure. She tried not to remember him calling her Fee. She doubted that's what he called her in his mind anymore. She was probably just Princess now.

Under the guise of checking her carefully applied make-up, she surveyed the reflection of the room. Cedric was easy enough to pick out in his dark robes, looking both bored and cross with the whole affair. True to her father's word, all high-ranking members of staff were required to attend the more significant functions as a symbolic image of Enchancia's power and influence. Sofia smothered a grimace of sympathy. She knew how much Cedric hated these social gatherings at the best of times. Now he was expected to play his part in enticing foreign royals to take an interest in aligning themselves with Enchancia through marriage. She liked to imagine that he cared enough to be bothered by the thought of watching her court potential suitors, but she really couldn't be sure. His behavior since their last talk could easily be the result of wounded pride rather than a deeper affection for her.

Her lies had hurt him, but exactly why and how deeply remained a hazy mystery. Regardless, she felt terrible for deceiving him, but it couldn't be helped. The truth wouldn't set either of them free. Cedric had defined their situation with keen accuracy: she was a princess, his employer's daughter, and born 16 years too late. His assessment implied all that he needn't say: he was entirely the wrong sort of man for her. Her parents would never condone a relationship between them. Perhaps her mother could be swayed, coming from humble beginnings, but her father would never relent. If Cedric were the right sort of suitor, his "short comings", such as his age, would hardly be a matter of contemplation. But as a servant under the crown the difference in their age was just another damning criticism.

The empty winter weeks had taught her a harsh but vital lesson: the world was not a fairytale. Once upon a time she believed anything possible if you remained true to your own heart. But she'd seen too much to think such trite words true anymore. Her parents, though lovely and caring, would only condone a pairing of the highest social standing. The implied restriction on her life chafed at her spirit and a subtle resentment had crept into her heart.

Catching sight of her own maudlin expression, she tightened her posture, placing a mask of cool indifference over her once vivacious and lively face. She wonder who this stranger was that stare back with eyes as cold sapphire eyes. Sofia wasn't sure she was becoming someone she wanted to know.

* * *

Cedric leaned against a marble column with his arms crossed, his already black mood darkening further. He was supposed to be standing at attention behind the dais of thrones, or mingling with guests talking up the magic prowess of the kingdom. He couldn't work up the will to do either, and instead stood hunched in silent protest. He watched nobles eye each other, appraising one another like chattel, dividing themselves along imaginary lines of power and money. They watched each other with false airs, appearing aloof and civil, taking for granted the splendor around them. Servants passed through their ranks, offering trays of champagne and hor d'oeuvres. Occasionally some well-meaning member of gentry would favor one with a nod of acknowledgement, but otherwise the servants passed unnoticed, their obedience also taken for granted.

"Glass of 20 year old champagne, Sir?"

Cedric turned to find a maid offering him a tray along with a sardonic twist of her lips. Her pale complexion was broken up by a sprinkle of cinnamon colored freckled across the bridge of her pert nose. A few stray curls of red hair escaped from her cap, framing a heart-shaped face.

"They're drinking it down like water," she said, "Better get some while you can."

He took a glass, fighting back a wry smirk of his own. "Thank you, Mary."

Her eyes warmed and she paused to speak with him. "Can you believe this drivel? 'Inter-kingdom friendship', my foot." She rolled her eyes, parroting the King's toast at the start of the fete. "Maybe a few years ago, but these nobles are here for one thing. Or should I say three things."

Cedric followed her gaze as she looked to the royal children scattered throughout the crowd. He rarely socialized with the staff, but he always appreciated Mary's candor. For a maid she had a quick, shrewd mind that disavowed any illusions about her position.

"Instead of wasting the royal coffers on all these parties, they should just set up an auction block and be done with it," he groused, sipping from his glass. "Tasty champagne, though."

"Lucky you, you get to drink it." Her pale eyes sparkled. "I only get to serve it. I know how much you just love rubbing elbows with the elite."

His laugh was more a scoff. He drained the rest of his glass before taking another. If the king required him to attend this degrading mockery of a party, he might as well make use of the perks.

"Mister Baileywick's looking this way, I better be getting back to work. Have fun." She said the last bit in a sing-song voice, knowing full well he wouldn't.

He titled his glass to her in a mocking toast, and she shook her head, a sideways smile on her lips. He never could figure out why, but Mary found his acerbic antics far more amusing than anyone else. As she stepped away, his eyes slipped from her generous swaying figure to another, one swathed in layers of lavender.

* * *

Sofia watched unnoticed as a woman stepped up to speak with Cedric. Standing out starkly next to his dark robes, a maid in white pinafore and mop cap stood close to his side. Sofia tried to appear indifferent as she assessed the woman. Red curls escaped from her cap and bold curves showed clearly against the starched navy pinstripes of her uniform. Taking the woman in, she felt the cold shock of recognition. Her name was Mary and Sofia had schemed several years ago to introduce the melancholy sorcerer to this open and outgoing member of the staff. She cringed, remembering how she thought at the time that Mary would make a fine counterpoint to Cedric's dark moods. As she watched the two now, her eyes narrowed. Mary placed her hand on Cedric's sleeve, murmuring something that made him laugh. Their easy report with one another had a foreign, spiteful feeling reared up inside Sofia. When he offered the woman a sarcastic smile, eliciting a feminine giggle in return, Sofia glared through narrowed eyes. Cedric never socialized with anyone, and his casual behavior was as damning a confession of their past intimacy as if he'd laid the woman down and bedded her right there on the parquet floor before Sofia's eyes.

She hadn't realized she was staring until Cedric's eyes flickered up to meet hers in the reflection of the mirror. She pulled her gaze away quickly, pretending she hadn't seen.

"How do I look?"

Amber appeared beside her, sweeping a cascade of golden ringlets over the shoulder of her pale chartreuse gown. The same color on Sofia would make her seem sallow and washed out, but Amber appeared to glow. Her gold jewelry and tiara complimented her hazel eyes, much the way Sofia's silver accessories flattered her own milky skin.

"Amber," Sofia sighed , relieved to have something to occupy her thoughts. Being confronted with the idea of one of Cedric's past lovers was more than she could stand at the moment. "You look beautiful."

"Just beautiful," the blond swept a finger over her delicate brow, "I was going for ravishing. Do you see Zandar anywhere?"

When Sofia leaned out to peek around her sister's shoulder, Amber grabbed her arm. "Not so obvious."

Sofia held up her hands in mock surrender, stifling a laugh. "He's talking with James and some man I don't recognize."

"Oh, James." Amber blew out a frustrated breath. "He's been hogging Zandar all night."

Sofia neglected to point out that the ball had been going on for barely an hour, hardly constituting all night. "Zandar is his best friend. Why don't you just go over there and join them?"

"I can't do that." She appeared scandalized by the very suggestion. "He has to come to me. Just make it look like we're talking."

"We are talking."

"I meant about something important." She took a surreptitious peek over her shoulder.

Sofia cast about for a topic of conversation. She'd spent far more time in Amber's company over the past two months than usual, and she was short on unexplored topics. Amber could be trying at times, but her company was better than spending long hours alone. "Prince Hugo's looking over here."

"Hugo?" Amber's lip curled up in a sneer. "Who cares about him?"

"I thought you did."

"Oh, no," the blond waved her hand airily. "That was ages ago. He means nothing to me."

"He mattered enough for you to make that revenge potion." Sofia didn't know why she was bringing it up. She shouldn't draw attention to that day, but something in Amber's disinterested attitude irritated her.

"What potion? Oh, that," she shrugged her shoulders. "You're not still upset about missing the gala are you? I said I was sorry."

"Never mind," Sofia muttered, feeling uncharacteristic anger towards her sister. Amber could be so selfish and self-absorbed at times, but it wasn't fair to blame her for something she didn't even know she was responsible for. Still, Sofia could help feeling that Amber was at least partially to blame for the mess she found herself mired in. If she were being fair, she would recognize that if Amber knew the truth she'd feel awful, but Sofia didn't feel like being fair at the moment.

Amber wasn't even paying attention. She watched the ballroom through the mirror's reflection. "Oh! He's coming over."

"Princess Amber," Prince Zandar smiled, nodding to Sofia by way of greeting.

"Oh, Prince Zandar," Amber said, turning. "I didn't see you there."

"It is good to see you again. May I introduce my cousin, Arif. He's visiting from Agrabah." Zandar's open hand indicated the young man standing by his side. The family resemblance was strong. He could have just as easily been a brother to Zandar as a cousin. "He is the son of my mother's brother, Emir Marid."

"A pleasure," Amber offered her hand for a customary kiss before turning to make introductions. "Arif, this is my sister, Princess Sofia."

"Nice to meet you." Sofia bent to curtsy while Arif swept into a gallant bow. Upon standing he grasped her hand, bringing it to his lips. Sofia didn't care for his boldness, but her good manners let it pass without comment.

"Princess." He kept hold of her hand moments longer than necessary and Sofia subtly pulled out of his grip.

It was common practice among the gentry to introduce new acquaintances with the full complement of family title and rank. In Agrabah an Emir was equal to a Duke of Enchancia. Arif's family was just one step below royalty and Sofia suspected the hand of a princess, especially one from a kingdom as prosperous as Enchanica was a prize worth pursuing. She hated that she now saw every new introduction through a tangled web of intrigue and anterior motives, but to do otherwise required a naivete she no longer possessed. She'd been raised to expect and play the games of the aristocracy. She forced a genteel smile onto her face. In the reflecting glass she caught sight of Cedric watching with a decidedly dissatisfied look on his face. His red-haired companion was nowhere to be seen and she found his displeasure intriguing.

Pushing warmth into her smile, batting her eyelashes coquettishly. "I've always wanted to visit Arabagh. Perhaps you could tell me more about your kingdom while we dance."

Amber's eyebrow raised in approval., hoping Sofia was finally taking a page out of her book. She turned to Zandar, her eyes sly but her smile demure. She made her voice breathless, "A dance does sound lovely."

Zandar flushed in pleased embarrassment. "Would you care to dance, Princess Amber?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she cooed, taking his offered arm.

Sofia allowed Arif to lead her onto the floor. Keeping her eyes down, she peeked through her lashes, taking surreptitious glances at a certain sorcerer.

* * *

Watching Sofia take the floor on the arm of some handsome young man, Cedric's mood slipped deeper into darkness. He drained his second glass of champagne before setting the empty glass on the passing tray of a butler. As an unaccomplished drinker he should eat something to temper the alcohol, but the sumptuous buffet held little interest. When another maid passed, he grabbed a third glass, sipping slowly this time. It wouldn't do to become a drunken sot and embarrass himself and the kingdom. For a moment he entertained the wild notion that he could sabotage Sofia's prospects by presenting a bad example. A foolish thought, as one inept sorcerer would not be enough to detract from the polish and sparkle of Enchancia, nor her personal allure.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a break from trying to bore a hole through her with his gaze. This mild obsession was beginning to disturb even him. Two months had passed since the day he'd tried to cripple his own career thinking it best for her well-being, and here he was, more a lap dog to the crown than ever. The room grew stifling hot and he wondered if it was the alcohol or the suffocating restriction on his freedom that harassed him. The king commanded his service and Cedric was obliged to comply, but even in her absence Sofia held dominion over him in a way that went beyond duty or obligation.

Keeping her at arm's length, he hoped to break the bonds of his affection. On numerous occasions he'd sat in solitary contemplation, about half convinced these confused notions of love were no more than a foolish fantasy, much the way his failed grabs for power had been. He didn't really love Sofia, only once again wished to reach for something beyond his grasp. Perhaps he even fancied himself a tragically romantic hero. Every time he had himself talked into believing his feelings were no more than a passing whim he'd run into the woman in the flesh, and he'd fall all over again.

Seeing her was painful. Making stilted, polite conversation proved distressing. But watching he socialize with other men with the intent that one of them eventually make her his bride felt like slowly succumbing to a fatal wound. His death would be excruciating and slow in coming. Most likely she'd move from Enchancia and he'd wither without her sunny countenance. Once he had found her eternal optimism annoying, but now he found he relied on it. Aware of his unhealthy state of co-dependency, he didn't know how to be free of it.

He scowled at his own dark thoughts as he watched the handsome noble lead Sofia into a second waltz without pause.

"Thinking of hexing him?"

The voice close by surprised him as much as the speaker's words.

"Duchess Matilda," he said by way of greeting, taking his eye briefly off the twirling couple. He realized she'd asked him a question. "Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?"

Tilly shrugged, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. "You just had a certain look about you, as if you were contemplating hurting someone. I thought it might be that boy dancing with Sofia."

"Preposterous. I was thinking no such thing. Besides, I was thinking on something else entirely."

"My mistake." She continued to smile at him, completely undeterred by his scowl. "Miranda tells me you and Sofia haven't been spending as much time together as usual. I wonder why?"

"Things change," he answered vaguely. "Children grow up. Perhaps Sofia has just grown out of her infatuation with magic."

"I can't see why, I never did. And I think we both know Sofia hasn't been a child for some time."

Her gentle smile didn't suggest any ulterior meanings, but Cedric felt his guilty eyes turning away from her open expression. He could stare King Roland in the face without flinching, even knowing he'd deflowered the man's daughter, but Sofia's Aunt Tilly did not seem nearly so easy to fool. Roland saw what he wanted to see: the clear, defining line between royalty and their servants. Tilly saw the world in all it's complicated, muddy layers.

"I hadn't noticed," he grumbled, completely unperturbed by the bald-faced lie.

Tilly made a noncommittal noise, turning her attention to the dance floor. They stood in relative silence for a few moments, Cedric brooding while Tilly hummed a little ditty to herself. He realized at that moment how alike Sofia and her aunt were. Somehow he just knew the woman had more on her mind.

"Out with it," he said without turning his head.

"Have I ever told you how I became a duchess instead of a queen?"

He found her jump in topic odd and favored her with a suspicious look. "No, I can't say that I know the story."

"Because I choose to." She turned to look him in the eye and he found it hard to look away. She seemed to be imparting some special meaning, her flippant demeanor turning serious in an instant. Her voice carried on, as light and airy as ever, as if they were discussion nothing so important as the weather. "I had plenty of offers. I could have been queen of my pick of kingdoms."

"And you turned them all down?" He frowned. "Why?"

"Oh," Tilly shrugged, looking back at the dance floor. Without those serious eyes boring into his own, he wasn't sure he'd seen the change in her at all. She crinkled her nose, back to her usual flighty self. "Position and power were never really my thing."

Cedric turned away as well, his dark eyes following the swaying figure in lavender.

"Funny thing about proclaiming yourself a duchess, people tend to stop expecting things from you. Of course I had the luxury because my brother was so eager to rule. It wasn't easy. Being the eldest I was expected to either marry a prince or rule Enchanica."

"And you did neither," he finished the thought for her.

"Funny how other people's expectations can rule our lives, can control our decisions and what we expect of ourselves. Once you let those expectations go," her hand floated through the air like a bird taking flight, "you can start living for yourself."

Cedric sighed, tired of vague conversations where he couldn't seem to read the writing between the lines. It was easy enough to infer what Tilly was getting at, but he didn't see how any of it helped him. "Is there a moral to this story?"

She smiled, as unperturbed as ever. "Just that sometimes to get the things we want, we have to take drastic measures to get them."

He shot her a quick glance, pondering how much this woman could possibly know. The Duchess visited the castle several times a year, and while she loved both her nieces and her nephew, Sofia held an obvious special place in the woman's heart. He wondered if Sofia had taken her aunt into her confidence. "Perhaps your niece is the one you should be speaking to. I'm hardly fighting off marriage proposals from princes or declaring titles."

She ignored his snarky tone. "Miranda also tells me you tried to resign. Why is that I wonder?"

He crossed his arms, no longer amused by the conversation. Duchess Matilda was one of the few members of royalty aside from Sofia who took the time to engage him in conversation, but the woman was far too sharp and often knew more than she let on. Most thought her half-daft, but Cedric knew better. "It was nothing. A silly whim, one that won't be repeated."

"Yes," she nodded sagely, "But why this _whim_ , as you call it?"

His tone hardened and he clenched his jaw. "A personal matter, if you must know."

Tilly held her hands up in mock surrender. "I just found it odd, that's all, you threatening to leave your job at the same time you and Sofia stop talking."

The color blanched from his face. If Tilly could piece together so many bits of this odd puzzle over night, then that meant others had noticed as well. The king wouldn't stay blind forever. What had the duchess said? Miranda, the queen, had told her all this. Sofia came by her brains and gumption honestly; The queen was another woman whose wits were far too sharp.

The duchess watched him from the corner of her eyes, probably guessing at the thoughts turning in his mind. "Well, I'm feeling a bit peckish. I think I'll get a bite to eat. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening, Mister Cedric."

He didn't bother to reply as she walked away. An eerie feeling crept along his spine as if he'd just been warned about some unseen danger. But what did she expect him to do with the information? The damage was done, and the past couldn't be changed. Going back over their strange conversation he began to wonder if her words had indeed been a warning or, perhaps, just maybe, they were meant as encouragement.

* * *

Author's Note: I love your reviews, so please leave one! Please, Please!


	9. Chapter 9

Intoxication: Chapter Nine

* * *

 _They say it's what you make  
I say it's up to fate  
It's woven in my soul  
I need to let you go_

 _Your eyes, they shine so bright  
I wanna save that light  
I can't escape this now  
Unless you show me how_

 _When you feel my heat  
Look into my eyes  
It's where my demons hide  
It's where my demons hide_

 _Don't get too close  
It's dark inside  
It's where my demons hide  
It's where my demons hide_

-Imagine Dragons, _Demons_

* * *

Sofia hid behind the punch bowl, eyeing the room warily.

"Hiding from someone?"

She looked up to see the serene face of her old friend Vivian.

"Yes," Sofia admitted. "Zandar's cousin Arif. I may have made a grave misjudgment asking him to dance earlier. He seems to think that means he has exclusive rights to every dance. He's stepped on my toes three times already."

Vivian hid a giggle behind her pale hand. "How dreadful."

Sofia shrugged, relaxing. Being near Vivian always put her at ease. The shy princess reminded Sofia of herself, though she knew Vivian would object to the comparison; Vivian believed herself far less capable than she truly was. "I suppose it could be worse."

"How have you been? I haven't seen you much since we graduated from Royal Prep last year."

Sofia cringed inwardly. She had indeed neglected her friends of late. She made a mental promise to do better this upcoming season. "I've been well."

The two princesses whiled away a few pleasant moments catching up. Vivian was regaling her with a story of Crackle's latest mishap when a gentle male voice spoke from behind Sofia's shoulder.

"Excuse me, Princess Sofia." She turned to see a young man, older than either Vivian or herself, perhaps in his mid or late twenties. The crisp broadcloth of this coat, edged with gold braiding and matching buttons, hugged his wide shoulders. A red silk sash cut across his chest before wrapping around his tapered hips. Dark green eyes sparkled from an undeniably handsome face set under a head of sandy brown hair.

"I did not mean to interrupt," he was saying.

"That's all right." Sofia struggled to put a name to the kind, smooth face.

"Sebastian," he supplied, bowing his head. "Prince Sebastian Rousseau from Royaume. I wanted to inquire if you had recovered from your illness."

"Illness?"

"Your presence was missed at the Valentine's Gala. I heard you were feeling ill that day."

"Oh," she flushed, wondering if he was this one of the young men her mother alluded to. He seemed familiar, but Sofia couldn't recall speaking to him before. "Yes, I'm quite recovered. Thank you. You're concern is touching."

She turned to indicate her companion. "Prince Sebastian, this is-"

"Princess Vivian, I know." He smiled at the other young woman as if they knew each other.

"Sebastian and I are old friends," Vivian explained. "Our parents are close. We grew up playing hide and seek, and chase the gargoyle at each other's castles."

Sofia's keen eyes flickered between them. Vivian's dark hair and pale complexion complimented Sebastian's fair hair and tan skin. She wondered if there was more between them than friendship. Perhaps that was the real reason he approached them, using concern for her health as a guise. Vivian would appreciate a suitor who cared for the well being of others.

"Enchancia has out done its self," Sebastian said, gesturing to the room in general. "This year's Spring Fete is the best I can remember. How did they get flowers to grow along the very walls?"

Sofia took in the sight, appreciating for the first time the remarkable decorations. Live vines crawled up every surface, even onto the ceiling. Each one hung heavy with open flowers larger than any natural grown bloom. They sparkled with beads of dew that caught the light of a dozen chandeliers. The whole room seemed to shine. Mirrors set along the walls reflected an infinite cascade of dancers dressed in their finest. As enchanting as the sight was Sofia knew how it was created and so waved her hand airily. "Oh, that's easy. It's a simple growth spell. Mister Cedric taught me how to do something similar when I was still his apprentice."

His eyebrows quirked together in questions. "Mister Cedric?"

She flushed. "Our royal sorcerer."

"A princess who apprenticed with a sorcerer," Sebastian's lips pursed in pleasant surprise. "That is not something you hear about every day. But from what I understand that is hardly unusual for you."

His smile was gentle, so Sofia took his words without malice or teasing. "What do you mean?"

"Vivian has told me all about you. She told me how you were the first princess to ride flying derby, the best student in your year at Royal Prep, and, from what I hear, you have saved your kingdom on several occasions."

"She told you all that, did she?" She looked to Vivian who shrugged in response. This Prince Sebastian had seen fit to ask about her and Sofia realized his interest was more than a passing diversion. "What else has Vivian told you?"

"That you are a kind friend, a lover of animals, and you would, how did you put it, Viv? Kick my butt at Knights and Squires."

"She certainly would," Vivian nodded. "He's been beating at that game for years. I'd love to see him taken down a peg."

Though she flushed, embarrassed by his assessment of her character, Sofia found his gentle teasing manner charming despite herself. She reevaluated her earlier assessment; An only child, Vivian appeared to regard Sebastian as more of an older brother than a suitor. She seemed completely at ease with his interest in the Enchancia princess. Sofia couldn't imagine Vivian spreading gossip and knew that she would only answer honestly any questions Sebastian put to her. And that he'd asked meant that he had indeed taken an interest. Sofia wasn't sure if she should feel flattered or apprehensive.

As a prince in his own right he wouldn't be concerned with advancing his status, at least not with Sofia. She was the third in line and least likely to inherit the thrown. If Sebastian was looking to become a king he wouldn't be inquiring about her. And Royaume was a kingdom every bit as prestigious as Enchancia. So if not for political power, then why had he taken an interest in her?

"There you are Princess." Sofia turned to see Arif striding towards her. "Are you ready for another dance?"

Sofia looked to Vivian for help, but the quiet princess didn't know how to intervene.

"Actually," Sebastian interjected smoothly, offering Sofia his arm. "The princess has just accepted my invitation to dance. Perhaps the next one, my friend."

"Thank you," Sofia whispered as Sebastian led her out on the floor.

He smiled down at her. The top of her head came just about to the level of his eyes. "I can recognize a damsel in distress when I see one."

"Are you suggesting," she canted her head to look up at him. "That I can't handle one overbearing noble?"

"Of course not," His hand slipped around her waist as they began to waltz. "But sometimes we poor men need to stroke our ego's a bit."

He winked, making her laugh out right. She decided then that she liked this Sebastian. She didn't regard him with any more interest than a possible friend, but she found his company enjoyable. And he waltzed divinely, saving her poor beleaguered toes from further injury and for that alone she could have kissed him with gratitude.

* * *

Despite Prince Sebastian's best efforts, Sofia couldn't escape Zandar's ambitious cousin for long. Amber intervened after their second waltz, irritated to have Arif tagging along after her and her new chosen prince. Giving Sebastian a apologetic shrug Sofia spent the remainder of the evening coming up with excuses to dodge dances with Agrabah noble. He really wasn't so bad, just uncoordinated and a tad presumptuous. Once they got on the topic of inter-kingdom trade routes, she became engrossed in conversation with him. International exchange was an interest of hers, often discussing Enchancia's policies with her father.

Near midnight the group wandered out onto the terrace to admire the clear night sky and cool air. Lit braziers along the wide marble railing created a halo of warmth to stave off the spring chill. Two more large braziers sat on tripods on either side of the dais. Sofia huddle close to one, keeping a safe distance from the glowing coals.

Amber had her claws into Zandar and he hung on her every words. She was an admirable master at enthralling young men while appearing herself disinterested. Without Zandar's notice Amber had taken control of the entire evening, subtly directing the conversation towards her interests. Now Zandar and Amir had managed to go off on a tangent about the upcoming derby season, something Sofia could actually take an interest in, but Amber huffed in protest.

"This night has gotten boring," Amber complained, the natural beauty of the brilliant stars lost on her. "We need some entertainment."

Zandar turned immediately. "What did you have in mind?"

Amber pursed her lips in thought, but Sofia knew she already had some plan devised. "What about fireworks?"

"Fireworks?" Zandar frowned in disappointment. "A bit mundane aren't they? In Tangu we have fireworks all the time."

"But you haven't seen the fireworks our royal sorcerer can do." Amber smiled like a card shark pulling an ace from her sleeve.

It was Sofia's turn to frown. She knew what her sister was doing, trying to show off. "I don't think that's a good idea Amber. Cedric didn't have anything like that planned for this evening."

"So?" The blond shrugged her off.

"So, he might not be prepared to put on a fireworks show." Sofia knew the excuse was flimsy. After so many celebrations over the years Cedric could conjure fireworks with his eyes closed, but she knew he wouldn't like this impromptu request.

"He is the _royal_ sorcerer, it's his job" Amber huffed, becoming irritated. She didn't like to be made to look as if she weren't in control of a situation.

Openly disagreeing in front of their guests, Sofia knew Amber's mood brooked on outright anger, but she refused to relent to her sister's petty whims. "Exactly, he's not some trained pet that you can order to perform."

"He's an employee," Amber hissed, before regaining her composure. "You'll have to forgive Sofia. She's much too friendly with the staff. She treats every servant like a member of the family."

Zandar appeared unperturbed by their spat. "In Tangu," he said, "all of our servants are treated with due respect. Without them our lives would not be possible, and vice versa. As your royal sorcerer I assume this person would be proud to display his craft for the family that houses him."

"I couldn't agree more," Amber simpered, wrapping her hands around his arm.

Sofia sighed in disgust. Zandar was sincere, but his words were empty platitudes. Treating people with "due respect" and treating them like equals were two different things, but she seemed to be the only one aware of the difference.

Amber summoned Baileywick with no more than a wave of her hand. The dutiful steward made no objects despite the change in carefully planned entertainments. Sofia watched helpless to intervene as Cedric arrived on the terrace, a frown of displeasure on his face.

"Cedric," Amber spoke, pitching her voice to a command. "Would you be so kind as to favor us with your best magical fireworks show."

Cedirc inclined his head in acquiescence, but Sofia knew he was seething inside. She never fully realized how much he must despise his position at times. An unexpected stab of guilt made her question if she did the right thing in asking him to stay.

Arif stood close to her side trying to engage her in conversation, but she only replied with clipped answers, focused on reading Cedric's impassive face. When the sky began to brighten with colorful swirls of exploding light, Arif sifted closer and she struggled to pay due attention to his words.

More people gathered on dais and in the doorways to watch the show. Even Sofia was momentarily distracted by the spectacle. Cedric had indeed done as Amber requested, putting on a display to inspire awe and amazement, but Sofia could see he was bored silly. Moving his wand in lazy circle and zigzags, he appeared as if he could indeed be asleep and produce the same feat.

Arif fell into silence, unable to talk over the explosions overhead. He eased closer, eyes on the sky as he dared to slip a possessive arm about her waist. Sofia stiffened, unsure how much of a scene she wished to cause, but certain she did not want to encourage the young noble's bold intrusion. She shifted, trying to subtly wiggle out of his grasp, but he was either oblivious or indifferent of her objections. She suspected the former as he didn't appear callous, merely overly self-assured. As the display came to a sparkling finale, Cedric's eyes flickered over to her, taking in the sight of the young man at her side and the hand clamped around her waist. Sofia froze like a rabbit in a trap, realizing the misleading image they must present.

A dark look passed over Cedric's face. All night he'd been fighting down the rising tide of jealousy, reminding himself that there was nothing to be jealous of. He had no claim over Sofia, despite how deeply his feeling for her ran. No matter how he despised every young swell vying for her attention. And he _hated_ them. He hated their negligent airs, their self-assured posturing, their youth and their position in life that they did nothing to deserve. But this one in particular, he'd had to watch all night as the Agrabah noble pawed over the princess, demanding her attention. And now here he was made to perform for their amusement while Sofia stood placidly in the arrogant swell's embrace.

Cedric was no stranger to a wide array of negative emotions, but anger was not his preferred mood. He usually fell to melancholy and introspection first, but tonight when he turned to find _his_ love in the arms of another he saw red. As quickly as he'd taken in the scene, he also devised a quick, effective solution. Not the most elegant plan, nor his wisest moment, but with a whispered word and a quick, hidden flick of his wand he inconspicuously set the tail of the young man's splendidly embroidered silk jacket on fire.

It took a moment before anyone noticed. Zandar had turned to say something to his cousin and his eyes widened in shock, gesticulating wildly with his hands. Sofia, who had still been staring wide-eyed in Cedric's direction, jumped away from Arif at once, confused and concerned by Zandar's apparent panic, but relieved to be free of young man's embrace.

When the Tangu prince found his voice, he shouted near hysterics. "You're on fire!"

Poor Arif, having just noticed the sensation of heat creeping up his back, tore at the buttons to remove the garment.

"Oh, my," Sofia covered her mouth with her hand in shock.

"I'll put it out," a voice drawled behind her and she turned to see Cedric approach at a lazy pace. "Must have gotten too close to the brazier."

Arif fumble with his nehru jacket, unable to work the buttons free in his haste. Cedric waved his wand, uttering a familiar water spell and a jet shot forth. The nobleman was completely doused, making quick work of the flames that scorched the bottom of his jacket. He sputtered in indignant shock, dripping from head to toe, his fine clothes ruined.

"You're welcome," Cedric smiled in condescending condolence, making no move to remedy the young man's dilemma. Instead he turned at once to leave. On his way through the patio doors he caught sight of Duchess Matilda, who appeared to be holding in laughter. He ignored her knowing look, thinking it wise to take his leave altogether before anyone asked him to "help" any further. He didn't break stride on his way out the ballroom, hoping to be long gone before word of the incident on the patio reached the ears of the king and queen.

Cedric was halfway down the hallway to his workshop when he heard the tell-tale click of a pair of high heeled slippers following his trail. He pretended not to notice and continued on, though he did increase his pace just a bit. Sofia still caught up with him as he paused to unlock the door.

"You did that on purpose," she hissed.

He waved his hand airily. "I have no idea what you're referring to.

"Oh, really," she watched him pull a key from his pocket and fit it into the lock in the door. She wondered if he ever replaced the spare key under the gargoyle statue. "Are you trying to say that you didn't set the Emir's son on fire?"

"It's not my fault if the silly boy brushed up against a lit brazier. I put him out, if it matters."

Sofia didn't buy his excuse for a second. She'd seen the look on his face when he saw Arif's arm around her waist. She fought down the absurd notion to defend herself. She hadn't done anything to warrant his ire. She hadn't even wanted Arif's arm around her. "Yes, you were a big help, leaving a visiting dignitary dripping wet out in the cold."

He pursed his lips, apathetic. "I'm sure he'll live."

Simmering anger burned in her chest. His dismissive attitude made her lash out against the petty injury to her pride. "There's no need to continue hiding your keys. I'm not going to sneak in to accost you in your sleep if that's what you're worried about."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he snapped in a waspish tone. "Besides you're too busy seducing the 'visiting dignitaries'."

"I most certainly was not-," She snapped her mouth shut, angry that her first instinct was to defend herself against his false accusations. She crossed her arms over her chest. "What I do and do not do is none of your business."

They stood in the doorway glaring at one another. Cedric sneered in angry reprisal, too incensed to be reasonable. He waved his hand towards the empty hallway. "Well, don't let me stop you from expanding your carnal knowledge."

She took a step forward, crowding his space, her tone sharp and cutting, "Well, you would know about that wouldn't you?"

Cedric experienced a moment of stunned silence before a weary look dropped over his face. His voice deepened with self-reproach. "I suppose I would, wouldn't I?"

His sudden shift in mood caught her unaware. She realized then how closely they were standing together, within touching distance. Her anger melted away, replaced by longing. She didn't wish to fight, but she couldn't tell him how little the attention of other men meant to her. She stared up at him, the tumult of her emotions plain on her face before she could remember that she was supposed to be pretending indifference.

Cedric recognized that look of wide-eyed yearning mingled with bewilderment. The last time he'd seen her look at him like that he'd been lying atop her naked body, buried deep inside her warmth. The memory raised a shiver down his spine. His eyes flickered down to her parted lips. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hand around the back of her neck and draw her forward. He wanted to kiss her until she forgot all about princes and dukes and other men in general. He'd never been the most passionate of men, always reserved and self-contained, but at that moment he understood completely, and for the first time, the base desire to drag this woman to his bed and fuck her senseless.

He wondered how she'd react if he pushed back against the door frame, burying his tongue in her mouth. The heated sentiment of his thoughts crept onto his face and Sofia leaned towards him, her eyes searching his face. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her pink lips, coming close enough that he felt her breath ghost over his mouth, but he backed away.

Not considering the consequences was what got him in this predicament in the first place. Though she appeared willing, eager even, he'd just have to endure her leaving again, telling him how little he mattered. "You should be getting back to your party."

Sofia blinked, breaking the spell she was under. Her brow creased and a flush brightened her cheeks. He'd seemed about to kiss her, and she hoped he would, but when he suddenly backed away embarrassment swelled inside her. The surprising sting of his rejection left her faltering. "Yes," she muttered, turning away. "Good night, then."

She walked away feeling the wild beat of her heart. If she was the one to implement this plan of indifference, then why was he the one to remember himself? One moment of suggested interest was all it took for her plan to fall apart, and that would not do. She'd have to do better for both of them.

Cedric watched her go, thinking how it appeared his lot in life to witness her walking away from him. Away from him towards other, better men. He closed the door with a weary sigh. How had he gotten himself in such a mess? Just a few weeks ago his life was a steady, reliable succession of dull tasks and predictable days. Back when he'd been happily ensconced in denial, completely content to pretend that he didn't lust after the king's daughter. _Not much_ , anyway. He tried to gather that denial around him now, telling himself that he didn't love her. He couldn't love her, because no good would come of it.

* * *

Author's Note: I have been looking forward to having Cedric set someone on fire ever since I first thought of this scene back in October. So much fun :)


	10. Chapter 10

Intoxication: Chapter Ten

* * *

 _I guess this is what it's supposed to feel like  
No we don't talk, no we don't talk, we don't talk anymore  
I guess this is what it's supposed to sound like  
The universe, the universe, universe is torn_

 _I don't want to live without you  
I can live without you half the day, hey  
I don't want to live without you  
And put life off for another day_

 _But I can't stop  
Thinking about  
Thinking about us anymore  
I said I can't stop  
Thinking about,  
Thinking about us anymore  
I said I can't stop, no  
Thinking about,  
Thinking about this anymore  
And all I've got  
Is nothing I want anymore_

 _No I never get used to silence  
But I don't hear, no I don't hear  
I don't hear you anymore  
I know I had to look hard to find it  
Everything, everything, everything is gone_

-OneRepublic, _Can't Stop_

* * *

"Come on, Penelope." Sofia gave the reins a light snap, not wishing to sting the horse beneath her. Unlike the average rider, she need only use her voice to communicate her desires to her mount.

"Are we in a rush, Princess?" To anyone listening the horse's response was no more than an whinny, but not to Sofia.

She tightened her knees as Penelope picked up speed, just as eager to eat up the turf as the young woman on her back. Penelope's love for speed was part of the reason they got along so well. Without wings, the light grey mare was the next best thing to flying derby racing. Sofia hadn't had a proper challenge in horsemanship since graduating school and now she took the opportunity to work out the frustration roiling inside her. The clean May breeze filled her lungs and whipped tendrils of hair loose from her bun.

She reined Penelope to the right around a mound of rocks, tearing up grass in their wake. Riding always filled her with a kind of euphoria. Sofia never could get the hang of riding side saddle, no matter how often she was chastised for riding like a man. And the deft ballet of rider and steed was made so much easier by wearing breeches. Though she'd broken the standard of females barred from riding derby, some conventions were harder fought than others, and riding astride was still considered fairly improper for a young woman. But Sofia didn't care. She'd rarely conformed to standards and wasn't about to give up one of her favored pastimes to make a few castle fuddy-duddies and village matrons comfortable.

Thoughts of social conformity only increased the turmoil inside her. Since the Spring Fete she'd been the commensurate debutante, attending every ball, picnic, barbeque and tea party. Her recent calendar of events even put her elitist sister to shame. If her parents took notice that she'd suddenly blossomed into a social butterfly seemingly overnight, they didn't comment on it, though she had a feeling that things were being said about her in private.

She gave a stubborn shake of her head, leaning forward to urge Penelope into a breakneck speed. Let her parents think what they wanted about her change in habits. An uncharacteristic dejection had crept in to eat away at the sunny countenance that had always defined her. Lately she felt irritable and short-tempered, but she tried hard to keep civil, even cheerful around her family. Only she knew what a deception she perpetrated, but the truth was not something she could share with them. So at home she pretended to be her usual pleasant self, and social affairs she pretended interest in the diversions of her peers. On both fronts she hoped for the same result, that she'd succeed in shaking herself free of this foolhardy infatuation.

But the season was not going at all how she'd hoped. Certainly by now she should have moved beyond one misguided fling to pursue more appropriate suitors. The irony that it had taken an infatuation potion to bring to light how besotted she'd become was not lost on her. Immensely popular in her own right, she didn't want for admirers. The problem stemmed from a lack of interest on her part. She'd thrown herself into the season in an increasingly desperate attempt to deny her feelings for Enchancia's sorcerer. Engagements off the castle premises were preferable as she found it that much harder to engage young men in flirtatious conversation while the object of her true desire stood on the sideline glowering.

Even the kiss of fresh spring air on her face and the exhilarating feeling of soaring over the ground on the back of a powerful steed couldn't clear away her frustration and despair. She's tried every tactic she could think of, using her usual resourcefulness to find new and inventive way of pushing beyond her comfort zone to flirt with eligible men, even if she had very little interest in them as romantic prospects. She played the part of the superlative coquette in hopes of discovering some previously unknown version of herself. Perhaps, she hoped, Cedric wasn't so special to her after all. Maybe she just needed to broaden her horizons. But after countless waltzes in the arms of handsome young men, dozens of coy touches, and hours of arch banter, she didn't feel the least bit encouraged by her prospects. And always the memory of one stolen afternoon in the arms of the wrong man taunted her memory and her dreams. Whenever she woke, panting and shivering in the dark of night, it proved a potent reminder of her failure.

While Cedric lingered in her mind, on the fringes of every soiree was Sebastian Rousseau. She sensed a growing interest from the Royaume prince while her own stalled. Sebastian proved good company, but she kept him at arm's length. They spoke often and danced occasionally, but his attraction appeared genuine and she didn't wish to offer false encouragements. So she sought out less consequential diversions, guided by physical attraction rather than emotional interest. Her heart felt slightly bruised, so she kept her emotions carefully sheltered.

But even the physical proved beyond her reach. By the May Day Ball in Kaldune she'd decided measures beyond flirtatious conversation and dancing were called for to cure her heavy heart. Kalvin St. James, an ex-derby racer with muscular arms and thick blond hair, seemed a fine choice to assist her in forgetting all about a particular lanky sorcerer with black hair and dark eyes. At Royal Prep she'd had a crush on Kalvin, joining with her peers in sighing over his baby blue eyes and white smile. After allowing him to lead her into the shadows to a secluded patch of garden path, she'd closed her eyes while he plied her lips with tender kisses that grew bolder with each press.

But it was no use. Not only did kissing Kalvin not wiped Cedric from her mind, conversely the comparison between them only sharpened her longing for the sorcerer to a brutal edge. She expected to feel at least a modicum of physical pleasure if nothing else in the arms of a handsome young man, but even that was beyond her reach. Though she was sure Kalvin was a decent friend with very nice lips, she felt neither enticed nor aroused by his kisses. When he attempted to deepen their embrace, she gently disengaged herself murmuring vague apologies.

Despite burning with shame for the way she acted, attempting to entice men she had no interest in, she continued with the charade (though she didn't bother to try kissing anymore men). Being out among her peers was still better than sitting in the castle, whiling away long hours alone or in the quiet company of her family who tried to hide their sidelong glances. Word of her uncharacteristic behavior couldn't fail to make the round of the gossip mill. Her parents already suspected something was off about her, what with the sudden termination of her trips to the north tower. She hoped they attributed her unexpected shift in activities more to an increased interest in society than any aversion to Cedric.

She wasn't avoiding him per say, but they hadn't spoken since the night of the Spring Fete. Not really anything more than a murmured "Good morning" or "Good afternoon" if they happened to pass in the hallway. Ever since the night of the Spring Fete she found it hard to look him in the eye. This man who had taken her maidenhead, kissed and caressed her in the most intimate ways, and she was more hung up on their almost-kiss that night. Valentine's Day could be blamed on Fountain D'engouement, but there was nothing to blame her continued attraction on.

It was the memory of his eyes that cut the most. The heated way he gazed down at her face, standing in the doorway after she'd chased him down the hall. No matter what he said, she knew he'd been the cause behind the fire on the terrace. The look on his face when he turned to find Arif's arm clamped around her waist raised goose-flesh along her arms. In that moment he'd looked every inch the dark, powerful sorcerer she knew simmered beneath the surface. That look had been decidedly possessive and, all the gods and angels help her, it had sent a shiver of raw electricity straight to her core.

She was a progressive, educated woman and the thought that a man wished to possess her should have fill her with potent rage. By the time she caught up with him outside his door the anger had indeed surfaced, only to vanish the instant he looked upon her with open longing. If Cedric wished to own her, then she desired dominion over him as well. Her body's reaction striped away any pretense of indifference. She desired him. But she could put that aside, ignore her feelings and push them down, if only he wouldn't look at her like that.

She scowled at her own thoughts, tightening her grip on the reins, and tried to lose herself in the feel of the wind rushing over her face. She and Penelope wove their way through a woodland path taking the long way to their destination before slowing on the edge of town. Sofia patted the horse's neck, both of them out of breath.

"That was fun," Penelope nickered.

Pulling up to a small cottage, Sofia dismounted, leaving the reins loose. "Stay here Pen. I'll try not to take too long."

When she knocked a handsome young man opened the door. "Jared," Sofia smiled warmly, "How are you?"

"Tired." His dazzling smile belaying his words. "But it's worth it."

"Where's Ruby and the baby?"

"In here," Ruby called from inside the house.

Jared stepped aside, allowing her entrance. When Sofia rounded the doorway to the parlor she stopped, a hand fluttering to her throat. "Oh Ruby, he's beautiful."

Ruby chuckled, cuddling her newborn son to her chest. "He is, isn't he?"

"Not nearly so much as his momma," Jared joked, leaning down to kiss his wife's forehead. "I've got to be getting back to the store. Do you need anything, Honey?"

Ruby spared her husband a glance before turning back to the tiny bundle in her arms. "I've got all I need right here."

"If you need me, send word with Mrs. Elsup from next door. She said she'd be happy to be of help."

"I think we'll be fine. Besides Sofia's here now."

Jared nodded to the princess before heading out the door.

"That man, I swear." Ruby shook her head, a smile curling up the corner of her mouth. "Thinks I'm the only woman who's ever had a baby. I keep telling him women have be doing it for years."

Sofia took a seat in an empty chair. "What do you expect? He loves you."

"He does." Ruby beamed down at her new son, crooning to him, "Daddy loves us both."

Examining the tiny hands that grasped his mother's finger, Sofia couldn't contain it any longer. "Can I hold him, please?"

"Of course," Ruby laughed, handing the baby carefully over. "Mind his head."

Sofia knew how to hold a baby, but didn't say anything. She knew her oldest friend was just being a protective new mother. Once in her arms, the baby blinked his eyes open seeming to stare, fascinated by a new face. She felt her heart swell. "Oh, he smiled at me."

"He's a week old, Sof. Not to burst your bubble, but it's probably gas."

Sofia shook her head, smiling mischievously. "Nope, I'm going with smile. What's his name?"

"George Alaster Whittly. We named him after Jared's grandfather."

"What a name for such a little thing," the princess cooed, nuzzling little George's nose with hers. He was so adorable it made her ache.

Ruby was watching them closely. "You're acting awfully baby crazy. Something you want to tell me?"

"What?" She pulled her attention away from George's tiny fingers long enough to consider his mother's question.

"Considering how babies are made and all ...," Ruby let the implication hang.

"No," Sofia answered quickly. "No, I'm sure of it. My monthly schedule is as regular as ever."

"That's probably for the best."

"You think?" She said with a wry quirk of her lips. "I can't imagine explaining that to my parents."

Little George squirmed, making gurgled sounds of protest.

"Looks like feeding time." Ruby reached for the baby and Sofia handed him over. Once George was happily settled against his mother's breast, Ruby turned to her. "Speaking of, whatever happened with your _situation_?"

Sofia chewed at her bottom lip. Surrounding herself with the vapid gentry has offered more protection than a mere respite from the castle and its prickly sorcerer. None of her royal friends knew what had happened, and so she hadn't had to admit to anyone that she lied. Hadn't had to admit how deeply that lie still hurt. "Nothing really," she answered carefully. "We talked and everything got sorted out."

Ruby's eyebrows knit together and her face took on a look eerily similar to her mother's. Helen Henshaw was a formidable woman, and her daughter hadn't fallen far from the tree. All Ruby had to say was, "Sofia," and her warning tone had the princess spilling out the truth.

"Oh Ruby," she confessed, "Everything's such a mess. I gave him some space, just like we talked about. I assumed after some time he'd come around and I'd be able to explain what happened. But before I could he tried resign."

"Resign?" Ruby frowned, "That's a bit dramatic, isn't it?"

"Yes," she blew out a frustrated breath. "It made me so angry, the thought of he would rather leave than speak to me."

"But Sofia, from what you told me it sounded like he thought he'd done some pretty serious harm."

"Okay, maybe I can understand a little why he thought leaving was for the best," she allowed begrudgingly, "but he still should have talked to me first."

"I'll give you that," Ruby soothed. "So he resigned, then what happened?"

" _Tried_ to resign. Dad refused to accept it. He actually asked me to talk Cedric out of it. Of course he didn't know why Cedric was trying to quit his job all of a sudden."

Ruby watched her, waiting patiently for her to go on with the rest of her tale. She had known Sofia long enough to recognize the subtle distress written on her face, and allowed her friend the time she needed to gather her thoughts.

"I was just so mad," Sofia whispered, as if confessing some dark sin. Ruby would understand how rare a feeling anger was for Sofia and how difficult it was for her to admit to it. "It was as if he was saying I didn't have any say in the matter whatsoever. Like I couldn't possibly have made up my own mind about wanting to be with him. But even though I was angry, I didn't want him to go."

Sofia fell silent, but Ruby sensed there was more she wished to say. After a long pause, she gave the princess's riding boot a nudge with her toe. "So?"

"So," Sofia sighed, "I may have stretched the truth a bit."

Ruby's brows bunched again, and before she could open her mouth, Sofia hurried on to explain.

"I couldn't let him just leave," she implored her friend to understand. "I didn't know if I'd ever see him again. I panicked."

"What did you do?"

"I told him what happened between us didn't mean anything. There was nothing for him to feel guilty about and no reason he should leave. I had to. If I told him the truth, he might have left anyway, thinking it for the best."

"You of all people know that no good comes from lying, Sofia," she said gently.

Her shoulders slumped, feeling ashamed. "I know."

Ruby shifted her sleeping son to her shoulder, gently patting his back. She gave her friend a sympathetic look. "So what is the truth?"

The answer was a long time coming as she searched for the most honest answer she could give. "I don't know," she whispered, "But it's not what I told him."

* * *

Cedric blinked hard, but the words on the parchment still blurred. He set the paper down, finally admitting defeat. In desperate need of a break, he'd been working much too hard of late. But he had to pass the time somehow, and work that took up his attention was better than the alternative.

The king had never been so pleased with the state of the kingdom's magical accomplishments. The stores were well stocked with a range of medicinal potions and tonics, the farmers had more magical weed killer, plant fertilizer and pest control than they could use in a season. The maids were delighted with the recent addition of self-cleaning feather dusters and all 760 windows in the castle had been charmed to resist smudging and dirt.

Cedric checked the time and saw he still had an hour before his scheduled meeting with the king to discuss preparations for several upcoming functions, including Princess Sofia's birthday. Normally he dreaded these kinds of talks, preferring the king simply send a list of requests, but any distraction was welcome from the empty hours alone.

Time alone made for time to think.

He considered laying down for a bit of rest, but immediately rejected the idea. Though he needed sleep badly, laying in bed only reminded him of the brief time his bed had been occupied by another. At least the faint whisper of lavender that clung to his pillows had finally dissipated. Laying in bed, surrounded by her delicate scent, it was too easy to remember. And while the memory of her writhing beneath him was physically intriguing, mentally it brought up a complicated maelstrom of emotions.

A light tap on the door broke his scattered thoughts. Baileywick shouldn't be there yet. It was too early for his meeting with the king. "Enter," he called out with reservation.

Mary pushed the door open, carrying a meal tray balanced on one hand.

Cedric squinted at the maid in confusion. "I didn't order lunch."

"Thought you might be peckish." She set the tray down on top of his papers, turning to lean her hip against the edge of the table.

He looked from the unsolicited meal to the woman now crowding his personal space. He'd corrected the well-meaning, if misplaced, order that meals be brought up on a regular basis like he was some sort of invalid. Baileywick hadn't taken his word for it, but the steward must have sought out Sofia's approval to desist. Cedric was back to grabbing hasty bites between errands or ordering meals, which he rarely did. Mary's thin guise of concern didn't faze him. He knew where this was headed.

"How very kind of you," his lips pursed in sarcasm.

She didn't shrink away from his sour expression. "Now, don't be like that," she coaxed. "Is that any way to treat a friend looking out for your welfare?"

He dropped the pretense, not in the mood for banter. "Why are you really here?"

"Direct," she nodded as if agreeing with his tactics. "Paul and I broke up a few weeks ago. As per our standing arraignment, I found myself feeling a bit lonely."

She slinked closer, running her hand up his sleeve to toy with the collar of his robe. He didn't pull away, considering her offer. "Who's Paul?" he stalled, not truly caring about the answer.

When Cedric first met Mary several years ago, he'd confused her easy, open nature, deeming her a flippant nitwit, but once he got to know her a bit he found he enjoyed her company, as long as he didn't have to endure it for too long. Similarly she found his sardonic moods entertaining in short doses and the two had struck something of an unspoken bargain. When engaged in a relationship Mary was fiercely loyal and monogamous, but she was also a free spirit that craved independence. When she found herself at a loose end with no current beau she came to see Cedric. This arrangement had suited him in the past as it afforded an easy and uncomplicated means to an end. Mary's occasional disappearances into the arms of other men didn't deter him in the slightest as he didn't care to engage in a more committed relationship with her himself. If she announced that she was getting married tomorrow, never to be seen again, he'd hardly bat an eye and wish her the best of luck to boot.

"One of the guards," she said, moving from his collar to tug at the end of his cravat.

The mustard-colored satin slipped free and he tried not to think on how Sofia had wound the ends around her hands, pulling him down the first time she kissed him.

Mary eased herself down on his lap and he pushed all thoughts of the out-of-reach princess from his mind.

"Not the jealous type, I hope," Cedric remarked, conversationally. "I have enough problems without having a palace guard mad at me."

Mary's cinnamon freckled nose crinkled. "Why should he care what I do? We're not together anymore."

Cedric shifted, uncomfortable. "Jealousy is an irrational emotion."

She bent to kiss his neck, but he pulled away. "I don't believe I've agreed to anything just yet."

"Really?" Mary favored him with a coy smile. "You've never said no before."

"That doesn't mean I can't now." Mary's forward nature never bothered him before, but at the moment it irritated him for some reason. He usually enjoyed speaking plainly with her as he rarely got to do so, always hiding his true feelings from the king.

She stared at him a moment, unsure if he was serious. "You're moody today," she pouted.

"Haven't been sleeping well," he muttered.

Her arms wound around his shoulders, one hand teasing the hair at the nape of his neck. "Are you sure that's all?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I forget sometimes how much you like to lock yourself away up here. You didn't know? You're quite the topic of conversation 'round the gossip mill. You and the princess."

Cedric stiffened, quickly schooling his features. "What about me and the princess?"

Mary smiled wryly. "Don't even have to ask which one, do you?"

He frowned, belatedly remembering that there were two princesses in residence. But it was no matter. Assuming she meant Sofia gave nothing away. He and Amber barely tolerated one another.

"The whole castle's been wonderin' what happened between the two of you. Princess Sofia used to spend her every waking day locked up in here with you, and all of a sudden the two of you won't be in the same room with each other."

Had he been so obvious? Hoping no one had noticed their estrangement seemed beyond naive now. Of course they had. Hadn't Tilly told him as much. But so long as no one guessed the truth, he didn't care. Much. They could flap their lips all they liked down in the servant's quarters.

"Look," Mary shifted on his lap, easing back to catch his eye. "I don't care what you do up here in this tower, but ... just be careful."

Cedric looked back at her, some of his annoyance easing. Her concern for him was in earnest, as was her warning. He felt he should say something, but he didn't know what to say.

"Did you hear about Tessa?" She asked, suddenly changing topic.

Cedric cast back, the name familiar. He remembered the sweet faced maid that came to collect Sofia when ... On _that_ day. "What of her?"

"She's been _relocated_ ," she spat the last word out like a curse. "Word is one of the stable boys found her in the barn with Prince James's hand up her skirt."

"Truly?" His brows rose. "We're they really discovered ... like that?"

"I don't know if that's exactly what happened. All I knows is one day the girl's receiving all the praise in the world from Mister Baileywick on her job, and the next she'd shipped off to some noble's house on the outskirts of the kingdom."

"At least the king saw fit to secure her a new position."

Mary scowled. "Oh sure. Poor girl's naught but seventeen. Her whole family lives in the village and now she's some twenty leagues off. She'll probably only get to see her Mum and Da on Wassailia if she's lucky. And why? Because some philanderin' prince took a fancy to her."

"You're not suggesting James would do anything against the girl's will?" Cedric didn't know much about James anymore. The young man was the spitting image of his father in face and temperament, but he had a reckless streak that came with youth.

"No," she frowned, "But that's not the point. Even if she were willing, which I'm sure she were, the prince dallies with the help and who pays the price?"

"I see what you mean," he muttered, feeling a keen sting from her words. He almost asked why she felt the need to tell him all this, but decided against it. He didn't want to hear the answer.

"Best we in the lower ranks keep to ourselves." She snuggled closer to him.

When she bent to kiss his neck this time he let her, turning her words over in his mind. Certain members of the staff, like Baileywick and himself actually belonged to an echelon above the general servants, but a servant was a servant, regardless if they were at the top of the chain or not. He was infinitely closer to Mary in social standing than Sofia, but still held apart in some nebulas middle. The thought made him feel awfully lonely.

Mary kissed his neck, moving up to nibble his ear. He closed his eyes and tried to let it all go, to enjoy this moment of connection with another being; one that cared for him, if only for the physical benefits he could provide her. Mary never had a problem enjoying herself with him. She was honest in all things, including what she liked, and had no qualms letting him know. He'd actually learned quite a bit from her. And she gave as good as she got.

His hands tightened around her waist and she squirmed in his lap. After plundering his ear with her tongue, her lips grazed across his cheek before capturing his mouth. He kissed her back, dredging up hunger buried down deep. His groin twitched in response. Groaning against his mouth, she twisted her hands into his hair, bringing him closer.

His hand slid up her back, expecting to find long skeins of loose ringlets. Instead her tight corkscrew curls were drawn up under a cap, pinned back. He faltered for a moment before forging on, delving his tongue into her willing mouth.

Memory over laid reality and he remembered delicate hands sliding into his hair, but she sat stride him, not sideways. He'd plundered her mouth, believing it his only shot; some mistake or trick of fate that he didn't wish to waste. He remembered slinging one arm around her waist while the other hand curled around the back of her corset, pulling her tight against his lap. He remembered her gasp of surprised arousal. He remembered the way she smelled, like lavender, not lye soap and furniture polish.

Mary sucked his lower lip between hers, biting lightly. Usually he liked that maneuver, but he twisted away. All ardor vanished, and with it his half-hearted erection. He wasn't sure if he felt sorry or relieved. Either way, he muttered, "Damn it."

"What's wrong?" Mary stared at him, wide-eyed and breathless.

Again he was reminded of another woman. He saw Sofia sprawled across the seatee in his study. Her eyes glassy with arousal and her mouth red from his kisses. Her skirts had gathered up around her waist and he saw the creamy skin of her thighs between her stockings and bloomers. Her shallow breaths pushed her breasts up against her constricting corset.

 _"What's wrong?" She panted._

He forced the memory away before he became aroused again for all the wrong reasons.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, moving Mary off his lap. She stared at him, confused and incredulous. She deserved an explanation, but all he could offer was, "I can't."

She frowned, but rather than pouting he saw honest hurt behind her eyes. "What do you mean? You seemed more than willing a moment ago."

"I know," he sighed, standing up. "I just ... can't."

He watched anger take over her face, making her eyebrows come together and her mouth draw thin and tight. She stomped to the door and he fully expected her to storm out in a huff. She stopped with her hand on the handle. Looking back over her shoulder, she seemed to reconsider. "Are you really in that deep?"

He turned the question over in his mind, trying to see all the angles and possible meanings. But he was tired of pretending. "I suppose I am."

Her shoulder drooped and she looked at him with something akin to pity. "Remember what I said, be careful. They're not like us, and we'll never be one of them."

She left then, her cryptic words hanging in the air. He didn't have to wonder at her meaning as Mary wasn't one for subterfuge. She felt honest concern for him, enough to warrant a warning. He wilted where he stood, sitting back against the table. Rolling his head around on his shoulders, he tried to ease the tension that had formed there.

He'd just turned down free, no-strings-attached sex for a memory. He was indeed in deep.

* * *

Author's Note: I'll admit, I argued with myself over whether or not Cedric should actual sleep with Mary. It felt a little like a cop out having him turn her down, but in the end it just didn't feel right. I figured it was enough that I went there a little.

Fun fact: Buckingham Palace has 760 windows. That's where I got the number of windows for Enchancia's castle.


	11. Chapter 11

Intoxication: Chapter Eleven

* * *

 _No words, My tears won't make any room for more,  
And it don't hurt like anything I've ever felt before,  
this is no broken heart,  
No familiar scars,  
This territory goes uncharted..._

Just me, in a room sunk down in a house in a town, and I  
Don't breathe, no I never meant to let it get away from me  
Now, I've too much to hold, everybody has to get their hands on gold,  
And I want uncharted.

 _Stuck under the ceiling I made, I can't help but feeling..._

I'm going down,  
Follow if you want, I won't just hang around,  
Like you'll show me where to go,  
I'm already out of foolproof ideas, so don't ask me how  
To get started, it's all uncharted...

-Sara Bareilles, _Uncharted_

* * *

Leaving Ruby's with explicit promises to visit again soon, Sofia lead Penelope on a slow canter home. She decided to follow the same forest path they took before, this time desiring a peaceful moment to think. After she was unable to answer Ruby's simple question about her feelings for Cedric, they'd moved on to more pleasant topics of conversation. When baby George woke, squalling for a change and another feeding, Sofia felt the need to head back to the castle. There was nothing pressing for her to do there, but ever since Ruby asked her question about truth, Sofia hadn't been able to fully concentrate.

The horse beneath her was quiet, as if sensing her rider's contemplative mood.

As little as four months ago Sofia's life had seemed so clear and uncomplicated. She split her time between the duties of royalty and took her leisure whenever possible in the companionship of her closest friend. More than academic interest and friendship drew her to Cedric, that much she could admit, but she assumed her feelings no more than a crush. She had them before for boys at Royal Prep, but Cedric was different. There was the obvious, of course. He was more mature than boys her own age. The difference in their age never bothered her. Indeed, most of the time she felt more comfortable in conversations with Cedric or her Aunt Tilly, than with other princesses. Sofia never felt she fully embraced the interests of girls her own age. Besides being the only princess at Royal Prep by marriage instead of birth, she'd always been a bit of a misfit, despite her easy report and ability to make friends everywhere, with anyone.

And then there were the boys her age. Many were like James, more interested in jousting matches and rough games of physical skill than courting young women. She wasn't entirely naive; She knew that boys her age had an interest in women, but that interest seemed to lay in a particular vein. She'd have to be daft and blind to not be aware of her step-brother's indiscreet liaisons. Not that she wished to trouble herself with the knowledge of her brother's sex life, but by spending so much time immersed with the gentry lately, gossip was impossible to ignore. She'd grown up reading stories of gallant knights and honorable princes who pursued chaste princesses and maidens. Reality had proven far more complicated. While the young ladies of her acquaintance seemed to be reading off the same notes, the young men appeared to have received different information altogether. The whole business made her headache, and she longed all the more for quiet afternoons in Cedric's company.

With Cedric she didn't have to pretend. Or, at least, she that's how it used to be between them.

If they could just be friends again. If they could only put this business behind them. If only her words to him were true. If being with him hadn't meant anything, would she find it easier to be in his company? The incident at the Spring Fete implied that Cedric was harboring some unresolved feelings of his own, a niggling thought only strengthen by his continued coolness towards her. The idea that he cared for her should have proved a lovely respite to her turbulent thoughts, but feelings deeper that cursory passion and tepid friendship would only complicate matters.

She growled aloud in frustration. How had she found herself in such an impossible situation? Caring for Cedric did her no good, but she seemed incapable of disregarding him. And if he cared for her, the results were the same. She despised this distance between them, but it seemed the only answer. He certainly seemed to think so. But why, she wondered forlornly, did it have to hurt so much? Since that ill-fated day in February, the last day she could call him her friend, she'd felt a growing hollowness in her chest. She wondered if he felt that same.

Sofia's melancholy thoughts were brought up short when Penelope whinnied, shying to the left of the trail.

"What is it, Girl?" Sofia petted the horse's neck, leaning over to see what spooked her mount. To the right of the trail a feral cat hissed, crouched low and wary beside a bramble of wild blackberries. She reined Penelope to a halt. Looking down at the large orange tabby, she cooed, "It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you."

The cat hissed again, showing a row of tiny sharp teeth.

"Little beast," Penelope snorted, muttering to herself.

Sofia dismounted, turning to show her open, empty hands. "It's alright," she repeated. "You can talk to me. I can understand animals."

The cat's eyes shifted right to left before it bolted for the cover of the far trees.

"Well, how's that for gratitude," the horse threw her main in distaste.

"Don't be so harsh, Pen, the poor thing is probably just scared. It's not every day an animal meets a human they can talk to. Do you think I should go after it?"

"Absolutely not."

Sofia peered into the trees, uncertain. Standing there in the quiet woods, she heard a soft sound. "I think there's something in there," She said, indicating the blackberry bush.

"Do be careful," Penelope chided, as bad as any matron.

Sofia crouched down, straining her ears to hear the sound again. It was definitely there, soft and weak. "It sounds like a bird." Unmindful of her clothing she knelt on the grass, peering between the tangle of vines and thrones. "It is a bird."

Her riding gloves protected her hands, but thorns snagged the sleeve of her blazer as she gently extracted the shivering ball of black feathers. "Shhhh," she murmured, checking the little body as best her could for injuries. There was a little blood on her gloves, but she couldn't find the source. One wing bent at an odd angle and the little thing babbled incoherently. "It just keeps saying cat, over and over. We better take it with us."

She laid the bird carefully above the pommel, before putting her foot in the stirrup to step up and swing her leg over. Once seated she gathered the injured creature against her chest, holding the reins with one hand. "Let's go, Pen, nice and gentle."

* * *

The ride back to the castle felt twice as long. Fortunately they were close to the end of the trail when she found the bird. Back at the stables she handed Peneople off to a stable boy, ordering a good brushing and a bag of oats. Penelope nickered her thanks before heading off to her stall.

"Mister Jefferies?" Sofia found the stable master in the tack room. He knew more about animals than anyone else at the castle.

"Yes, Princess," he called, setting down a weathered bridle, wiping his hands on an oily rag.

"I found this little bird in the woods. It was attacked by a wild cat and it's injured. Is there anything you can do?"

Mister Jeffereies inspected the shuttering bundle in her hands. "I'm sorry, but I don't think so. Besides, to be blunt, Princess, this is a crow. Nasty buggers. It's best to be rid of it. Give it here, I'll dispose of it for you."

As he reached for the bird, Sofia drew her hands back. Though she'd only just found it not an hour ago, she felt a fierce sense of protection for the little injured creature, wounded and in pain. "Isn't there anything can be done? I'll nurse it back to health myself if you won't help."

The stable master's eyes softened. "It's not that I don't want to help, Miss. It's too far gone. It would take a miracle to keep the thing alive. Best to end its suffering."

"No," Sofia cradled the baby bird to her chest , thinking, "Not a miracle, but something close might help. Thank you, Mister Jeffereies."

He scratched his head as she took off in the direction of the castle, confused by what just transpired and what she was thanking him for.

* * *

"Baileywick!"

"Yes, Princess."

Sofia had long since stopped jumping whenever the steward seemed to pop out of nowhere. She'd called out for him the instant she came into the castle, feeling a sense of urgency after Mister Jefferies assessment. She couldn't waste time running about, and Baileywick seemed omnipotent when it came to the whereabouts of every inhabitant at every moment of the day.

The steward spared a glance at her unusual burden. "What can I help you with?" He asked as if finding the princess in possession of an injured animal were not an unusual occurrence.

"Where's Mister Cedric? Is he in his tower?"

"Not at present. He's in a meeting with your father."

"Where?"

"The conference room. Shall I announce you?"

"No time," she called over her shoulder, already headed in the appropriate direction. But she did remember to add a hasty, "Thank you, Baileywick."

* * *

She barreled through the door of the conference room unmindful of her wild appearance and flushed face.

"Sofia?" Her father half stood in surprise. "Is something wrong?"

She took in the room, her eyes shifting from her father to Cedric and back again. Cedric sat in a chair to the king's right, a quill in his hand poised above a piece of parchment. His face registered surprise and concern, but she couldn't spare the time to think on it.

"Yes," she answered.

Roland stood fully, approaching her in earnest distress. "What's happened?"

She swallowed, feeling suddenly silly for her dramatics. "Nothing's happened. I mean, nothing so important."

"Oh," the tension in his shoulders eased, but her looked at her in confusion. "What did you need to see me about that was so urgent?"

"Actually," her eyes flickered over to the other occupant of the room. "I came to see Mister Cedric."

"Cedric?" Roland turned to look at the sorcerer.

Cedric's eyebrows rose near to his hairline, honestly surprised by her breathless words. He cleared his throat and hoped his voice didn't crack like a schoolboy's. "What can I help you with, Princess?"

Sofia spared her father an apologetic look, before edging around him. She opened her hands, showing Cedric the wounded bird. "I found this on my ride back from Ruby's house. It was attacked by a cat. I spoke to Mister Jefferies," she turned to tell her father that last bit by way of explaining that bursting into their meeting was not her first choice. "He said it was hopeless and I should just put it out of its misery."

"Sofia," her father said gently. "If Mister Jefferies says there's nothing that can be done, then I would be inclined to believe him."

"But," she protested, her feelings of protection rearing up. Why was everyone so eager to let the poor thing die? "I don't think he really tried to help. He said it was a crow and that they were nasty little things and I should let him dispose of it."

"Sofia," he father began patiently.

"It's not a crow," Cedric muttered, examining the specimen. "It's a raven."

Sofia felt her heart swell. She knew Cedric had a soft spot for ravens. He couldn't refuse to help her now. "Can you heal it with magic?"

They had both had their heads bent over her cupped hands and when he looked up he was surprised to find their faces close together. This close he couldn't look anywhere but into her eyes. The situation was doubtful, and he hesitated to be the bearer of bad news.

"Please Cedric," she pleaded, her blue eyes wide and hopeful.

Was there nothing he couldn't deny her when she spoke like that? "I can try," he found his voice saying.

Her face lit with a brilliant smile and he felt pain lace his heart. How easily he was drawn to her, as if he hadn't a shred of self-respect at all. With her, it would seem, he had none. "Your majesty," he turned to address the king.

Roland was already waving his hand. "Yes, yes. We were just about finished here anyway. I'll send Baileywick if there's anything else." He stopped his daughter to lay a kiss on her forehead. "Go and save the world. If anyone can it's you."

Sofia smiled up at him before hurrying out the door. Down the long hallway she strode along by Cedric's side, needing to jog to keep up with his long legged gait. To fill the silence she relayed her story of discovering the wounded animal. Cedric listened intently, asking few questions. At the door to his workshop he drew a key from his pocket and held open the door for her.

Inside she had no time to contemplate her last visit or how much she missed the interior of this room. Cedric went to work at once, grabbing a spare wand and conjuring a nest of straw. "Lay it down there."

Sofia obeyed, watching closely as he examined the crooked wing.

"Broken," he tisked to himself. "Probably some internal injuries as well. Nasty scratch along the left flank."

"Can you heal it?"

Cedric blinked, coming out of a sort of trance. He scowled, but she found the sight familiar, rather than intimidating. "As I said, I can try. Just don't get your hopes too high."

He went back to his examination. She didn't know what possessed her, but she laid her hand on his sleeve. He turned to her in startled apprehension. "If anyone can do it, you can Cedric," she said in earnest.

"Yes, well," he floundered for a response and came up empty. He eased his arm from her gentle touch and turned his attention where it was needed. Waving his wand in a complicated arraignment of circles he murmured a series of healing spells. He gentle stretched out the wing to ensure the bones would mend correctly.

Sofia sucked in a breath, cringing.

"It's alright," he assured, and she wasn't sure if he were speaking to the bird or to her.

After a few more utterances and flicks of his wand, Cedric settle the wing back against the raven's body. It's breathing evened out and it no longer cheeped in agitation.

"I've sedated it with a low level sleeping spell," he said, by way of explanation. "I've done what I can. It's up to him now."

"Him?" Sofia tilted her head closer to get a better look. The bird's voice had been too weak for her to determine its gender. "How do you know it's a him?"

Cedric frowned in thought. "I don't, just assumed, I guess."

She fought the urge to place a comforting hand on his back. She knew he must be thinking of Wormwood. While Sofia never particularly cared for the acerbic bird, or rather Wormwood never cared for her, she knew Cedric missed him. Even though they couldn't communicate the way Sofia could with her animal friends, Cedric had had a special relationship with the raven. She knew he'd probably conjured the bird himself, transmuting a rock into a treasured friend. Even as long lived as ravens were, Wormwood had passed away nearly three years ago. She tried not to think about her own animals friends, almost all of them gone now.

"Do you think he'll make it?" She posed the question as gently as she could, wondering now if she'd made the right decision. She'd only thought to save the thing's life, suspecting only her own heart would be broken if she failed. She hadn't meant to open old wounds.

Cedric sighed. "I can't say for certain."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Cedric instructed her to go to the kitchens to gather a suitable box to house the raven in. When she returned with some kitchen towels and an old produce crate, his workshop was empty. She found him in the study seated beside the lit fireplace. She arraigned the crate on the table, lining the bottom with towels. Cook had also given her bowls for food and water and she places those inside as well. Cedric settled the makeshift nest in the corner.

"He may need to be given water with a dropper until well enough to drink on his own." He lapsed into thought, tapping his finger against his lips. "Of all the days."

"What's the matter?"

He spared her a glance. "Your father has some tasks he needs done today. I don't have the time to-"

"I can stay," the offer was out of her mouth before he had time to finish what he was saying. She flushed, feeling entirely too eager. "I mean, I didn't have anything planned for this afternoon. I can stay and watch over him."

"Very well," he answered slowly, hesitant to encourage her. "If it's not too much trouble."

"I want to," she smiled and Cedric felt he might melt into a puddle on the floor. "Besides, I found him, I'm responsible for him. What do I have to do?"

Cedric explained what was needed, feeding the bird sips of water, keeping him warm and calm. As he spoke, calmly and confidently giving instruction Sofia realized what a help he was, and not just for his magic skills. Once the information was relayed, he bid her an awkward goodbye, leaving her alone. She looked around the study. The last time she'd been in this room she'd pushed Cedric down on the seatee and straddled him. She blushed to remember and chose to sit in the wing backed chair by the fire instead.

She checked on the bird often, coaxing drops of water into its beak. But without much to occupy herself and sitting by the stifling warmth of a fire on a balmy May day, she soon dozed off. There were no windows through which to track the time, so when she woke she wasn't sure how long she'd slept. She sat up, stiff from sleeping up right, and felt something tumble off her shoulders into her lap. An afghan made from a mixture of purples lay over her lap. She recalled the day Winifred gave it to Cedric after the elder sorceress took up crochet as a hobby. He'd muttered tepid thanks, flustered by her motherly fawning. Despite his aloof airs, Sofia knew he treasured it. Winifred had made it "the old fashioned way", with her own hands. No magic involved. Sofia stroked the soft wool of the yarn before realizing she wasn't alone.

Cedric sat on the other side of the fireplace. His dark robes acted as a kind of camouflage in the muted, shifting light of the fire. He'd been watching her from the relative safety of the shadows.

Sofia blushed, feeling flustered having been caught petting one of his possessions. Cedric must have returned to find her sleeping and covered her up. The thought warmed her more than the fire. She sat up properly, striping the blanket from her legs. "How long was I asleep?"

He regarded her a moment before answering, his chin resting on his palm. "A few hours. It's almost dinner time."

"Dinner?" She rose in alarm. Her parents would be expecting her and she still needed to change out of her riding habit. She'd removed her boots before falling asleep and hurried to pull them on again. "I've got to be going."

"I know."

She glanced over. In the flickering light of the fire she couldn't be sure, but she thought he looked sad. "How's our patient?" She asked.

He smiled, or what passed for a smile in his book. Sofia had grown used to the curious quirk of his mouth pulled up at one corner, not quite a smirk, but rarely an outright smile. "Well. Not out of the woods yet, but better."

She eased over to peek into the box. The raven was still asleep, but nestled upright and proper rather than flopped over in exhaustion. Her next words came out shy, almost afraid of the answer. "Can I come back tomorrow?"

Cedric's right eyebrow quirked up and the half-smile vanished from his face.

"To check on the raven," she added quickly, now truly afraid he'd deny her. She fought back the urge to beg.

"If you wish," he answered carefully.

She smiled, not caring if she were grasping at straws. It was at least a start. And when she turned to leave, he rose and walked her to the door. She felt fairly giddy. "Thank you," she said. "For helping. The raven, that is."

He opened the door for her and in that moment she wasn't sure what possessed her, but she raised up on her tiptoes, and with reflexes born of years of fleet racing skills, she pressed her lips to his cheek. She pulled back, a little surprised at what she'd done. "I'll see you tomorrow," she sputtered, afraid he'd renege the offer if she lingered any longer. In a flash she was out the door, heading down the hall before he had time to register what had happened.

* * *

Author's Note: Reviews please. I love them.


	12. Chapter 12

Intoxication: Chapter Twelve

* * *

 _From throwing clothes across the floor  
To teeth and claws and slamming doors at you  
If this is all we're living for  
Why are we doing it, doing it, doing it anymore?_

I used to recognize myself  
It's funny how reflections change  
When we're becoming something else  
I think it's time to walk away

So come on, let it go  
Just let it be  
Why don't you be you  
And I'll be me?  
Everything that's broke  
Leave it to the breeze  
Why don't you be you  
And I'll be me?  
And I'll be me

-James Bay,Let It Go

* * *

Sofia forced herself to wait until after breakfast before heading to Cedric's tower. Upon waking she was sorely tempted to rush right over, but she tempered her enthusiasm with effort. After kissing him on the cheek she didn't wish to overstep her bounds.

The kiss worried her, and not just for his anticipated reaction. It had only been a second, an impulsive act born of sheer elation and gratitude, but she could swear she could still feel the texture of his skin beneath her lips. Although always clean shaven, there had been a hint of prickly stubble beneath smooth skin. Laying in bed she sucked her lower lip into her mouth, nibbling it with her teeth as she was want to do when nervous, and hoped to find some trace of him. Of course she was being foolish and whimsical, but there had been more electricity, more sensation in that faint brush of her lips over his cheek than in any of the kisses, caresses, or conversations with other men.

She sat up, throwing off her covers roughly and wiped her arm across her mouth. Her brows thundered down ward and if anyone was there to witness it, they'd see an expression not often found on her delicate face. She ordered herself to stop this fantasy. Cedric was her friend, nothing more. Could be nothing more. And if all he could be was her friend, then it was callous of her to tempt him with the promise of more. She could play the coquette with other men, as it was expected of her to find an eligible suitor, but not with him. Her selfishness had nearly broken their tender friendship, had nearly broken him, and she wouldn't risk it again, no matter how giddy the thought of his kisses made her.

After Violet helped her dress for the day, she went down to attend breakfast with her family, as was their custom. She hugged her mother around the neck before bestowing an airy kiss on her father's cheek.

"Good morning, Sofia," her father's voice held sincere cheer and it never failed to bring a smile to her face. "How did you make out with that injured bird?"

"Good." She nodded thanks to Baileywick as he set a plate of goldenberry pancakes before her. "I think Mister Cedric was able to heal all of its injuries. I was going to check in after breakfast."

"Oh?" Even with her head bent over her plate Sofia couldn't fail to notice the look that passed between her parents. So they had noticed her estrangement from the sorcerer. "And Cedric's alright with you stopping by?"

She chewed slowly, buying herself time to gather her thoughts. She put on her most bland and innocent expression. "Of course. Is there some reason he wouldn't be?"

"No, of course not," her father answered. "It's just ...," He faltered, looking to his wife for assistance.

"It's just that we've noticed you two hadn't been spending nearly as much time together as usual."

"Oh," Sofia shrugged as if the matter was of no consequence. She kept her answer purposefully vague."I've just had other things to attend to."

Amber smiled approvingly. "It's about time you turned your attention to important matters."

James snorted rudely. "Yeah, because matching your dress to your shoes is _so_ difficult."

"Making vital political alliances via social assembly," Amber favored her bother with a snide smile, "Is important. More so than being locked up in a dusty closet with some acerbic fusspot. Sofia needs to be out amongst her peers."

Sofia frowned, not liking her sister's assessment. But Amber's words did hold a bit of truth. The parties and festivities of the elite weren't all play. She had been remiss in her duties to the kingdom, so wrapped up in her own world. Still, she did not care for Amber's depiction of Cedric, but Sofia didn't really expect any different from her sister. That no one else corrected the blonde's poor manners did rankle.

"Here is your daily agenda, Sire." Baileywick presented a tablet to the king as he did every morning, before handing a sealed envelope to Sofia.

She blinked at him in surprise. She had a few correspondences, but she wasn't expecting a letter. "What's this?"

"A message for you from the kingdom of Royaume."

Sofia eyed the royal seal with apprehension. She had a fairly good idea whom the message was from and she was hesitant to read the contents.

Amber sat forward in her seat, like a hound on the trail of a scent. "Royaume? Sofia, who is writing to you from there?"

"How should she know?" James spoke through a full mouth. Age had done little to improve his table manners in front of the family. He swallowed down his pancakes. "You haven't even let her open it yet."

"Honestly, James," Amber rolled her eyes at her brother, before shifting her attention to her sister in anticipation.

While Sofia split the wax seal, unfolding the thick velum, James scowled at his twin. "Leave Sofia alone Amber. It's her letter."

Sofia spared her brother a grateful look, even if it didn't deter their sister in the slightest. Lately Amber's social climbing antics seemed to get on his nerves more than usual, especial since her attention had turned in the direction his best friend. There wasn't much James could do about his twin sinking her claws into Zandar, especially since Zandar seemed quite happy to be on the receiving end of Amber's flirtatious attention, but he could try to fend her off from encouraging Sofia to follow in her footsteps.

"The kingdom of Royaume, James," Amber sneered, as if offering an explanation was beneath her. "It's only one of the oldest and largest kingdoms bordering Enchancia."

"I know what it is," James huffed, spearing bits of pancake on his fork with more force than was necessary.

Sofia drowned out their petty bickering as best she could while she read the lengthy message.

"Everything alright, Darling?" Her mother inquired gently.

"Yes, Mom," she refolded the message, stuffing the letter under the lip of her plate, as if to signify that she didn't wish to discuss the matter further. "It's just an invitation to a picnic next week."

Amber frowned, her winged brows drawing together in confusion. "I don't know of any picnic in Royaume."

James snickered. "You weren't invited, that's great."

"James," their father's tone took on a hard edge.

"Sorry," the prince muttered, shooting his sister a nasty look. One she repaid in kind.

Sofia cleared her throat. "It's not a public event. It's a, um, personal engagement."

King Roland shifted in his seat. "Do you mean like a date?"

Queen Miranda eyed her daughter with interest, awaiting her answer. The whole table looked to Sofia and she fidgeted. "I suppose so," she answered carefully.

Amber gasped in delight. "From who? Is it Prince Frederick? He was a year ahead at Royal Prep. I always thought he had a crush on you."

Sofia's face quirked in confusion for a moment before placing the name to a face. "No, Frederick's courting some Duke's daughter from Freezenburg. Actually, the letter's from Prince Sebastian."

Amber paled and for a moment Sofia thought her sister might be ill. Then the blond princess squealed, startling the whole table.

"All the gods and listening saints, Amber," James complained, "I think you've reached a pitch only dogs can understand."

She ignored her brother, turning all her attention to Sofia. "Prince Sebastian Rousseau, the eldest son." Amber's eyes shifted around the table, imploring them to understand this new information with the same importance she did. "The son intended to inherit the throne. And he wants to invite Sofia on a date." She grabbed her sister's hand with surprising pressure for one who appeared so delicate. "You have to say yes."

"Wait a minute now. Sofia doesn't have to agree to anything she doesn't want to." Roland held out a hand, motioning his oldest daughter to calm down, but even Sofia could see he was affected by the idea of an alliance with such a prestigious kingdom. Ambers words, though few, held a world's worth of meaning. "Sofia?"

"I-," she hesitated, taking in Amber's imploring expression, James sympathetic frown, similar to their mother's, and her father's carefully tempered expression. "I need to think on it."

Amber huffed in annoyance, dropping Sofia hand. "What's to think about?"

"Amber," Queen Miranda warned. "You heard your father, this is Sofia's decision, and," she looked directly into Sofia's eyes, "She doesn't have to agree to anything she doesn't want to."

Sofia spared her mother a grateful smile. They finished breakfast in relative silence, Amber sulking while their parents forced light conversation about the day's responsibilities. Sofia managed to finish a few more bites of her food, but the buttery pancakes had turned into a lump in her stomach.

* * *

Cedric pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing out a long sigh. He fought the urge to check the time again. The entire morning had proven a waste, though he'd had his head stuck in a stack of requisition forms all morning. His feigned attempt at work proved useless as he was far too anxious to concentrate.

He should have told her no, that he could handle the care of one little creature and her presence wasn't necessary. It would be cruel of him to deny her, but far easier on himself. Perhaps self-preservation was a tactic he should employ more aggressively in regards with Sofia. He seemed to be assailable by her in a way he wasn't by anyone else.

A cawing at his elbow drew his attention. The raven was doing much better this morning. Besides being distracted by anticipation waiting for the princess's arrival, he was also struggling through fatigue, having spent half the night checking on his little patient. He felt acutely responsible for the bird's well being. It never occurred to him to protest about becoming it's caretaker once his healing spells had been cast.

"Demanding, aren't we?" His words were tempered with an amused smirk. He sprinkled a pinch of birdseed into the empty food bowl. The raven cocked it's head in reproach, eyeing the sparse meal.

"Don't you look at me like that," Cedric chided. "You're still healing, you little piglet. You don't want to go too far too fast." Despite his words, he added an extra dash of seed. The raven pecked at the food, cawing in appreciation.

He turned resolutely back to his work. With the help of magic the raven would most likely be ready to release soon and he tried not to become attached.

After a moment his treacherous eyes shifted to the silent door, and he scolded himself. Speaking of becoming too attached. He threw down his quill, giving up all pretense of doing anything but waiting for her arrival. It took so little for her to worm her way back into his heart. Her unexpected arrival yesterday during his meeting with the king had surprised him nearly enough to distract him from the sight of her, but not quite. Outfitted in an imitation of a man's riding habit, the tailored blazer nipped in at her waist while the fawn colored breeches clung to the curve of her backside. It was no wonder that the king scowled and even the open-minded queen wrung her hands whenever Sofia went riding. Dressing like a boy may have proven cute when she was a child, but as a grown woman the image left little to the imagination to those with less principled minds, such as his. It was worse for him because he knew those curves intimately. He didn't need to imagine how she looked without clothing. Flouncing ball gowns and stiff bodices at least provided the illusion of modesty, making it easier to ignore the memories screaming for his attention.

And then there was the kiss. A mere peck on the cheek, but her simple gesture set his mind racing in unintended directions. He couldn't resist bringing his hand up to his face, swearing he could still feel the soft, subtle press of her lips.

A gentle knock startled him into the present. He cleared his throat before responding. "Come in."

Sofia entered with much less spirit than she had burst into the conference hall the day before. She peered around the door, almost shy. "I'm not interrupting you, am I?"

"N-not really," he stammered, considering if it would be better to appear at ease or inundated with tasks. He hadn't wanted her to come, but now that she was here, he didn't want to her leave in a hurry.

"Good," she came all the way in then, carrying a plate of sugared cookies. His favorite. "I brought you something to say thank you."

"For what?" he blinked, feeling quite slow today.

She frowned, indicating the crate beside him. "The raven."

"Yes, yes, of course." His eyes closed briefly, feeling very much a dolt. "Thank you, you didn't need to do that."

"I wanted to." She set the plate down on his bench, chewing her bottom lip while looking about the room.

She was standing close enough to touch. He clenched the edge of his workbench, giving his hands some means of distraction. An awkward silence lengthened.

They both began speaking at once, Sofia framing a question about the raven at the same moment Cedric began to detail it's progress.

"I'm sorry," she sputtered. "Go ahead."

"No," he demurred. "You first."

"How's he doing today?"

Cedric's response was drown out by an outraged cawing. Sofia concentrated to pick out the raven's words over his.

"He?" It squawked in indignant offense. "I am a female."

Sofia bit her lip, stifling a laugh. Cedric stopped in his explanation, scowling at her impertinence. "What is it?"

She giggled. "I think your raven is a girl."

"Really?" He looked into the crate, expecting to see something of note, but other than a few ruffled feathers the bird looked the same. "What makes you say that?"

The princess smiled enigmatically. "Just a hunch, but I think you should go with 'she' from now on."

Cedric's gaze shifted back and forth between the girl and the bird. He's long since lost his amazement of her strange report with animals. He'd questioned her about it once, all but sure the Amulet of Avalor afforded her special powers, but she remained tight-lipped. "Let me guess," he crossed his arms,"You're not going to tell me how you know this."

"Nope," she gazed at him in serene composure. He knew further questioning was useless.

"Alright," he allowed. "Then, what would _she_ like to be called?"

The raven cocked her head, staring up at the two humans that had saved her life.

"What should we call you, little one?" Sofia cooed, as if she didn't expect the animal to answer.

The raven cawed softly and Cedric watched with suspicious eyes as Sofia turned to him. "What do you think, Cedric? What do you think we should name her?"

Cedric favored her with a skeptical look, letting her know this charade needn't continue for his benefit. "You're telling me she doesn't already have one?"

Sofia shrugged, enjoying the pretense. The raven had in fact informed her that she hadn't needed a name out in the wild and they could call her what they liked.

Cedric stroked his chin in thought, amused despite himself. "How about Gertrude?"

The raven cawed in protest, and Sofia's nose crinkled. "Maybe not."

"Not to your liking," he teased, speaking deliberately to the girl rather than the bird. "What about Altoona?"

The raven squawked again and Sofia shook her head, on the verge of breaking into a fit of giggles.

Cedric eyed her, knowing she was never going to admit the truth. "Alright," he said slowly, taking a moment to consider an honest suggestion. "Belladonna."

Sofia's smile softened, knowing he was thinking of his old companion. She looked at the raven, who blinked back and cawed once, softly. Sofia nodded to the thing as if coming to an agreement. "I like it."

Cedric rolled his eyes, scoffing for effect. "So glad you approve."

She laughed, and for a moment things felt comfortable and natural between them. But the moment passed quickly and silence fell between them again.

"I'm sure you have something you need to be doing," Cedric remarked, offering her a graceful exit.

"Actually, no," she looked about the room. "If it's alright, I thought I might stay and help you clean your workshop. It's a little dusty in here."

They both knew she'd been cleaning and organizing his workshop since her apprentice days. He made a terrible housekeeper and he didn't allow maids in, fearing they'd make a mess of his careful methods of organization. Sofia knew well his eccentric preferences, that the seemingly chaotic piles of papers and collections of bottled ingredients made sense to him if no one else. The room was in need of some tending since she had last been there.

"You don't need to do that. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself," his tone was more defensive than he' d meant it to be.

"I know that," she answered softly, afraid she'd offended him. "I just thought I might be of some help."

He was seized by an outrageous sense of indignation mingled with embarrassment. He shouldn't need her. He didn't want to need her. It unsettled him how much he wanted her to stay.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. He looked hard upon her and she stumbled on blindly to explain. "About what I said. Not about the workshop, but-"

"I know what you meant." His voice was hard and she flinched.

"Can we just start over?" Her voice brooked on desperation. "Please?"

He clenched his jaw and she shrank back from the look on his face, as if she were a fool. "That is not how life works, Princess."

"Don't call me that."

"Why shouldn't I? It's your title. It's what servants are supposed to call their betters."

Sofia rallied, finding the anger that had been simmering under the surface for weeks. "I have never insisted that you call me by title," she snapped.

"Perhaps you should," he sneered. "You shouldn't become too _familiar_ with your servants."

Her jaw dropped in open shock. _How dare he?_

"Well, that escalated quickly," the newly christened Belladonna cawed, drawing Sofia's attention. "Did I miss something?"

With restraint, Sofia reined in her temper, trying to remember why she'd sought out his company. "Can we call a truce, please?"

Cedric held onto his indignation for a moment longer, knowing it's loss threatened the encroachment of misery. He wilted in reproach, feeling foolish for snapping at her. "Truce," he muttered.

She took a deep breath, showing him her open palms. "I miss you," she uttered with open honesty. "I miss our friendship."

 _Friendship_ , the word burned like acid in his stomach. Most of his feelings towards he did not fall under the classification of friendship. But her open admission ate at him. All she'd done was offer her assistance and here he was ready to bite her head off. The poor girl was probably just as befuddled and stricken by their _unique_ relationship as he was, but for different reasons. His bruised heart notwithstanding, her confession implored him to at least try for civility.

He sat heavily upon his chair, running restless hands through his hair. "I have miss you, as well," he confessed.

"So, can we start over?" The hope in her voice was palpable

The palpable hope in her voice ate at him, encouraging him to utter, "I suppose stranger things have happened. Fine, you can stay."

Sofia riled at the hint of condescension in his tone, but reminded herself that she was trying to see her way back into his good graces, and she had been the one to coldly dismiss his feelings last time they had a serious discussion.

"What would you have me do?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to remember that she was asking about the workshop and not ... _other things_. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all. "You can start by organizing this pile of requisitions by date, if you want." He held the pile of papers out to her, directing his attention on his workbench. "I have a replication potion to brew for the gardening staff."

She took the offered pile without comment. Baby steps, she reminded herself. Cedric had always been a close guarded person who let few in and didn't make the same mistake twice when a person betrayed his trust, but for some reason he was inclined to give her a second chance. Or was this her third? A little grunt work wasn't too much for her to bear.

The morning rolled into afternoon. Falling easily into old habits, she rang for lunch at noon. Cedric muttered his thanks when she placed a sandwich before him, but other than that and the occasional question about where he wanted a particular object or classification of potion, they spoke very little. By the end of the afternoon their silence felt natural instead of unpleasant. When she made to leave she made sure to mention some bit of unfinished business she'd wished to come back to tackle the next day. He seemed about to protest, but stopped short.

"If you wish," was all he said, without turning to bid her goodbye.

* * *

Once back in her room Sofia let out a heavy breath, feeling all the tension of the day. On her desk the invitation from Sebastian lay open, his bold, slanted handwriting peeking out at her to remind her about all the things she's spend the day trying to forget.

Sitting down, she thought about Sebastian's green eyes shining with sincerity, taking in her every word when they spoke. Physical affection had failed to erase Cedric from her mind, perhaps something else entirely was necessary to right the crooked course she found herself on. Pulling a clean sheet of paper from her desk, she penned a hasty reply, accepting his invitation.

* * *

Author's Note: Reviews please. :)

Side note: Altoona was my grandmother's name. She absolutely hated it. :-P


	13. Chapter 13

Intoxication: Chapter Thirteen

* * *

 _Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while  
But, my God, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles  
Wanna hold him, maybe I'll just sing about it_

 _'Cause you can't jump the track  
We're like cars on a cable  
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table  
No one can find the rewind button, boys  
So cradle your head in your hands_

 _And breathe, just breathe  
Oh breathe, just breathe_

 _There's a light at each end of this tunnel you shout  
'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out  
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again  
If you only try turning around_

-Anna Nalick, _Breathe (2AM)_

* * *

She hadn't come every day to his workshop, but she came more than was necessary. Despite whispered misgivings murmuring in the back of her mind, she found herself drawn back into his presence.

Sofia rubbed her tired eyes, feeling every bit of the tension she'd endured over the past week. Between easing her way back into Cedric's good graces and the growing anticipation for her date with Sebastian, a knot of stress had taken up residence somewhere in her gut. No less than a dozen times she'd sat at her desk, hand poised to pen a polite dismissal, reneging her acceptance to Sebastian's invitation. Each time her courage failed, overwhelmed by uncertainty and doubt.

Spending time with Cedric turned out to be a tangled wreak of joy, excitement, guilt and nerves. After two solid days cleaning his tower, stretching out the process as long as she could, she forced herself away on the third day, though she spent the entirety of the afternoon curbing her desire to find an excuse to invade his space. Day four she pretended interest in Belladonna's well-being and in his work, both things she told herself were of genuine interest, but the butterfly flutter in her stomach just being near him told a different story. Day five she stayed away again, not wanting to appear desperate, though she felt very wretched without his company.

Today was day six, a week to the day since she found Belladonna and the day before her date with Sebastian. Nervousness over her date drove her to seek Cedric out. Shouldn't she be a twitter with excitement, obsessing over what to wear or how to do her hair for her big date? Instead she only desired the quiet solitude of Cedric's company and the hushed privacy of his tower.

She tapped lightly on the door before popping her head in to survey the room. Cedric's shoulder's twitched like someone who received a shock and he turned towards her with an enigmatic expression. His downturned brows matched the corners of his mouth and he gulped.

"Princess?"

She smiled tightly, growing accustomed to correcting him. "Sofia, please, Cedric."

For the past week he'd acquired the habit of only addressing her by her title. At first she was hurt by it, but soon accepted the distance he was trying to place between them. Not to say she had accepted defeat in the face of his minor defiance against their renewed closeness, she was merely biding her time, wearing him down. For her part, ever since February she'd dropped the Mister and only addressed him by his given name, something she was certain was not lost on him. Despite their revived friendship, they were still at odds and the discord between them bothered her greatly.

"What can I help you with, _Princess Sofia_?"

That was something else new. He never used to ask why she came, it was normal and accepted that she be there. Not so anymore.

 _Call me Fee_ , she thought somewhat desperately, before pushing the stray desire resolutely away.

"I-," she searched for a plausible reason. She hadn't brought up her date with Sebastian and given Cedric penchant for solitude it was unlikely he'd learned about it from castle gossip. It wasn't that she was hiding the information from him, just that whenever she thought to bring it up her stomach tightened. The conversation felt loaded, no matter how lightly she might broach the matter. But not telling him felt like a lie of omission.

 _No_ , she realized, _it felt like betrayal_.

He was still watching her and she came back from her tangled thoughts. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I just wanted to come. Is that all right?"

The question was more rhetorical, but Cedric felt he should answer anyway. It cost her something to admit that to him and he took pity on her. "Fine," he groused, pretending to be put upon, "But I have work to do, so just stay out of the way."

If she was offended by his gruff words, she hid it well. She hadn't been "in the way" for years, and was more often an invaluable assistant. How was she to know that her mere presence was a hindrance now?

"I'll just take a book into the study then."

Her tone sounded stiff and he trampled the urge to ask what troubled her. When she passed close to examine the bookcase, he found his body reacting to her presence. She smelled lightly of lavender water and he wanted to bury his nose in the scent and breath her in.

When she stretched up on her toes to reach for a book, and he swallowed down a whimper.

 _Poseidon's Pumpkins, I'm pathetic_ , he chastised himself.

He went off on a tiny fantasy, imagining how it would feel to press his cheek against the soft, flat plane of her abdomen. To wrap his hands around her hips and allow his nose to follow that delicate scent up over her breast to the hollow of her neck. To kiss the velvety skin below her ear.

The way he knew she'd moan if he did just that.

He snapped back into reality rather abruptly when his hand slipped and he snapped his wand when he should have flicked. The crystal he'd been experimenting on shattered. Or rather exploded, sending shrapnel flying. He barely had time to cover his face with his upraised arm. When it was safe, he lowered his sleeve to survey the blackened surface of his worktable.

"Are you alright?" He turned his head to see Sofia had instinctively raised the book as a shield.

"Yes." She lowered it cautiously, bits of tinkling crystal falling to the floor. Her brows rose and she looked at him with thinly veiled concern. "Are you okay?"

He knew she wasn't referring to physical harm. He hadn't had a blunder like this in some time. He couldn't stop the blush that colored his cheeks. "F-fine," he muttered. "Just a slip of my wand."

Her lips quirked as she fought an inappropriate smile. "I thought you had better control of your ... wand."

He stared in incredulous shock for a moment. Was she flirting with him? Surely not. He stuttered something incomprehensible in reply.

Sofia chastised herself for the minor slip in decorum. Teasing him was a pleasant diversion, but hardly fair. She set the book down, reaching automatically for a broom to sweep up this latest disaster while Cedric brushed broken bits of crystal from the table.

"He's been doing that a lot lately."

Sofia looked up with a smile. "Good morning, Belladonna."

The raven perched on one of the rafters, head cocked at an angle to regard her with one eye. The bird had grown accustomed to these one sided conversations with the princess. She offered information though Sofia hadn't asked the obvious question. "That's the third thing he's blown up in two days."

Sofia glanced at Cedric from behind the fringe of her lashes while she swept. He did appear a bit ... ragged lately. "Bella seems to be doing well," she mentioned in a conversational tone.

"Yes," he glanced up at the raven. "Her wing's all healed. Been flying around the study quite a bit."

She stopped sweeping to give him her full attention. He seemed at ease with the topic, but she caught the subtle catch in his voice. Unspoken implications hung heavy in the silence. "When -?" was all she managed to say before he answered.

"Tomorrow. She's ready to go back. Unfair to keep her here any longer."

While she knew that Bella was a wild creature that belonged out of doors, Sofia felt her heart sink. This was going to be hard on Cedric, harder than she'd anticipated.

"Do you want to be there?" He asked suddenly, startling her out of her thoughts.

"Yes," she answered automatically, before realizing, "Wait, I can't."

Cedric appeared to deflate before her eyes and she felt horrible. "Oh," he said, blinking down at his scorched desk. "Well, if you have something better to do."

Sofia couldn't mistake the bitter quality in his voice. "It's not that I don't want to be with you ... both of you," she added quickly. "I just have a ... prior engagement."

She cringed, feeling like a coward.

"It's fine," he sniffed.

"I would come," she insisted. "It's just that I have this ..."

She trailed off as he looked up to stare at her.

"Date," she finished lamely, nervously picking at her nails.

The yawning silence that followed threatened to swallow her whole. She began to babble to fill the void. She rambled about Sebastian, the picnic date, Amber's over enthusiastic urging to accept, even her parents reluctance and reassurance. Throughout it all he continued to stare blankly, eyes wide.

Finally she trailed off, running out of words. But the silence continued to stretch between them. She wanted him to say something. Anything. But he continued to stare, barely blinking, as if he didn't quite comprehend the string of words that had come from her mouth. "You have a date?"

"Yes."

After another protracted silence, all he said was, "Oh."

Sofia's heartbeat pounded in her ears as they stared at each other for a moment longer.

He was the first to tear his gaze away, an incomprehensible avalanche of emotions twisting his insides. "Well, have ... fun, I guess."

Sofia wasn't given to fits of emotions, but at that moment she felt the insensible desire to cry. Her eyes blinked rapidly, keeping any tears at bay. _What was wrong with her?_ She'd been so afraid to tell him, and here he was wishing her well. He seemed honestly fine with the idea of her going on a date with another man.

She realized abruptly that was the problem. She didn't _want_ him to be okay with it.

 _Good gods_ , she thought, _how selfish could she be?_ If she was supposed to be moving on with Sebastian then certainly Cedric deserved the same opportunity. He was trying. Making the best of a god-awful situation. Who was she to be upset with him for it?

He was trying, and she wanted to weep for so many reasons.

"But, I would," she insisted, feeling that is was important he understand. "I would ...,"

 _Would what?_ She wondered. Her brain supplied the answer almost immediately: _I would stay with you if I could. I would choose you, if I could._

The knowledge came with such certainty and intensity that it frightened her a little, stealing her breath for a moment. What she said, softer than she intended, was, "I would be there with you if I could."

* * *

She barely slept, twisting fitfully from side to side throughout the night in search of a comfortable position. By morning dark circles rimmed her eyes and she blinked in the thin light of dawn.

A dress hung on the front of the closet door, seeming to stare at her. Amber had come by the previous evening, insistent and excited to help Sofia choose the perfect outfit. Together they found a simple but beautiful summer gown of lavender muslin, trimmed in lace. The appeal of the garment lay in the elegant and precise cut which clung to her waist, accentuating the curve of her breast. The square neckline allowed a tasteful peak of her décolletage. Even though she wasn't vain, she couldn't deny it looked beautiful on her. The thought that Sebastian would appreciate the gown gave her no comfort or pleasure.

As the sun rose higher, lightening the dark corners of the room, she wondered about her new warring instincts. She felt torn between the right choice and the one she wanted to make, unsure which was which. Cedric was her friend, and her friend needed her today. But she had an obligation to Sebastian, an obligation that extended beyond the two of them.

If Ruby or Jade or any number of her other friends needed her she wouldn't hesitate to be there. But Cedric ... He was at once both more and less than a friend. Did she really want to stay because he needed her, or because she wanted an excuse to be free of her obligation to Royamune and its prince?

Did Cedric need her? He'd always been a solitary person who bore his own troubles. Setting one injured creature free was hardly cause for concern. But, the fact that he'd asked her to be there suggested something more.

She groaned, rubbing the backs of her hands against her tired eyes. Sinking down into her pillows, she gave up chasing her thoughts around in circles and stared back at the dress. The lovely garment made her imagine Sebastian's reaction when he saw her in it. He would probably gaze upon her with appreciation and warmth, pleased with her lovely appearance, thinking, no doubt, about the image she'd cut as queen of his realm. Perhaps that was a bit extreme, but as a royal heir thoughts for the future of his kingdom would never stray far from his mind. The fact that he had formally invited her on this date indicated that he already considered her a candidate for queen.

Would his green eyes would shine with pride? Or would they darken with desire and longing? Would he be pleased, believing she'd carefully chosen her appearance just to please him?

She tried to picture her own responses. Tried to imagine smiling coquettish smiles, flushing prettily. The pink of her cheeks, she knew, would spread over her chest drawing attention to the subtle swell of her breasts just peaking over the top of her gown. She tried to imagine being honestly pleased when his gaze strayed there, instead of churning with nervous dismay.

Though she knew she shouldn't, the picture morphed into dark eyes raking over her. The way he became stiller when locked on something of interest. His grey bangs brushing over her chest while he tilted his head to kiss the satiny top of her breast. How she longed for him to pull the top of her constricting corset down, baring her chest. The blazing fingers of fire that raked at her when he took a pert nipple into his mouth.

Sofia gasped at the brazen turn of her thoughts, pressing her fists tight against her closed eyelids.

"Damn it," she muttered, feeling that she was good and truly doomed.

* * *

Cedric plodded forward, trying hard not to think. This day, he resolved, would unfold without any assistance on his part, and when it was over, he would do his damnedest to wipe it from his memory.

Belladonna rode on his shoulder, her weight slight but reassuring. He tried not to think about that either. The familiarity, the comfort of her presence. She would be gone soon enough too.

He resolved that everything was simply turning out the way it always should have been. He was a loner, always had been, and now he would be good and truly alone. He didn't need anyone. Not the bird, and not the girl. Both were creatures out of his reach.

For a moment he envied Belladonna, about to be set free to wander as she pleased, while he remained tethered.

At the crest of a hill, he stopped, deeming this spot as fit as any. They stood on the edge of the gardens, facing the not so distant forest. Once in the air, she would know what to do. A week inside hadn't weaken her natural instincts and she'd be better off. Or so he told himself. For the first time in a long time he coveted the power of the Amulet, if only so he could communicate with her. To know that he'd meant something to the little creature he'd nursed back to health. To know he mattered to someone even if it was only a wild raven.

"Well," he said aloud, transferring Bella from his shoulder to his wrist. "Time for you to go. Stay away from cats. You know I can't always be there to patch you up."

Bella cocked her head and he could swear she was glowering, as if to say, "Oh really? You don't say?"

He had to imagine that any creature that spent a week in his company would have to be fluent in sarcasm.

"Of course, you knew that," he muttered. He hesitated, feeling just a little silly, "I ... I am going to miss you."

She bobbed up and down, hopping higher on his arm to nip at his sleeve. She cawed, canting her head up to look at him.

"I'll have to take you word for it," he smirked, knowing full well that she couldn't understand him, or he her. "I guess it's time."

"Am I too late?"

He turned sharply, half expecting he'd imagined her voice. Sofia came striding up the hillside wearing a pale lavender dress trimmed in white lace. She reminded him of the lilacs blooming in the hedgerow. She panted a little from her hurried pace and the effect pressed her chest sharply against her bodice.

He swallowed. "Aren't you supposed to be in Royaume?"

She shrugged as if her answer was of little consequence, but a nervous look overtook her face. "I cancelled."

"Why?"

She stopped close to him, reaching out to slide a finger down Belladonna's sleek feathers. When she peered up at him through the fringe of her lashes, he felt his heart stop. "This was more important."

His pulse jolted back into an uneven rhythm, making him feel light-headed. When she smiled, he returned the gesture, both corners of his mouth turning up for once. "You didn't have to do that."

She watched him smile, actually smile, and felt a flutter in her belly knowing she put it there. Despite his words, he was obviously pleased. "What are friends for?"

Normally his expression would turn sour at the phrase, but at the moment it felt like a private joke between them. "As I'm sure you can see, you're not too late."

She blinked and seemed to shake herself. _Right_ , she remembered, _she was here to see Belladonna off_. _Yes, that was it_. Giving the bird another stroke, she tore her gaze away from him with some effort. "Good bye, Bella. You be careful out there."

The raven nibbled affectionately at her finger. "Humans," she muttered, sounding almost derisive.

Sofia made a noise of soft surprise when Bella opened her wings, pushing off Cedric's arm, and took flight without another word. Pain laced her heart, knowing it was dull compared to Cedric's. She watched the black shape grow distant against the horizon. She expected that Bella might want to translate some message of gratitude or farewell to the man who nursed her back to health. But, Sofia had to remind herself, the raven was a wild creature and perhaps didn't think in such civilized terms. Still, she lamented that she couldn't offer Cedric some message of acknowledgement or comfort.

They stood in silence for a long time, looking at the empty sky.

"Sofia," Cedric spoke unexpectedly, startling her out of the quiet revelry.

"Yes?" _Call me Fee._

He seemed to struggle with what he intended to say. "I wanted," he began, hesitantly, "to apologize."

She turned towards him, taken aback by his words. "For what?"

He struggled to give form to the guilt that had been twisting inside. "For ..."

Sofia watched him wrestle with the meaning he wished to convey, very much evident that his remorse was real, even if he couldn't frame exactly what for. "For being a bit of a jerk," she supplied, a teasing smile on her lips.

Cedric huffed in amused reproach. "Indeed. I have said some ... uncalled for things to you as of late. I am sorry."

She wondered if he was referring to their last row. The one where he suggested she was too _familiar_ with her servants. Or perhaps before that, when he accused her of seducing Zandar's cousin. He had indeed said some unkind things, but then so had she.

"You're forgiven. And, I'm sorry too." She wanted to take his hand in hers, but held back. She should be able to take a friend's hand, shouldn't she?

Yes, if they were truly friends and nothing more.

He scoffed in honest surprise. "What are you sorry for?"

"I don't know." She found herself struggling just as he had been a moment before. "I just felt I should say it, because I am. Sorry, that is."

His expression softened and she was drawn to his eyes. "For what?"

Her resolve floundered, and though that weren't discussing anything dangerous, she felt as if she'd wandered into some precarious territory, like walking through a familiar wood and suddenly discovering yourself lost among dark and threatening trees.

She actually considered telling him the truth: that what she was most sorry for was perpetrating the lie that she only wished to be his friend.

"I-I just," she stuttered, casting about for something to say. "I'm just sorry that we've been estranged and that things aren't more comfortable between us."

A tremulous look had softened his features, but at her last words he shut that feeling away again, sealing some emotion from her. Her heart sank and she cringed. Was there no move she could make, no words she could say that didn't cause him pain? A subtle ache rose inside her chest.

"Of course," he muttered. He attempted to smile, but it was a woebegone imitation.

* * *

Sofia walked by his side while they made their way back to the castle at a lazy pace. She didn't want to leave his company just yet, wondering what excuses she could conjure to invade his workshop now that Bella was healed up and gone. Again she lamented the bird's truncated farewell. Bella had provided the means for reconciliation between Cedric and herself, a feat Sofia believed impossible a mere week ago.

Covertly, she stole a glance at the man walking by her side. Cedric looked lost inside his own head, a subtle scowl tightening the corners of his mouth. Her heart felt heavy, thinking how hard another loss must weigh on him. She had the sudden desire to start babbling apologies again. To tell him how sorry she was for ever brining Belladonna into his life, only to be another thing taken from him.

Tentatively she reached over to touch his sleeve, stopping him in the middle of the path. "Cedric?"

"Ye-" He cleared his throat. "Yes?"

Why was speaking to him so difficult now? She searched his eyes, seeking _something_ , perhaps encouragement or comfort. She was very aware of him standing close to her, looking down upon her from his superior height. That morning when she'd sat at her vanity in her night gown, penning a polite note of dismissal to Sebastian, she'd worried her bottom lip between her teeth, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Her gaze had fallen on the ensamble hanging on the back of her closet, looking at it for a long moment before making up her mind. She'd called upon Violet to help her into the pretty lavender dress that showed off her figure to such an advantage, taking great care with her appearance, trying hard not to think on how nervous and excited she felt, hoping to impress the wrong man.

"I-" Why did her voice sound so breathless? Heat crept into her cheeks, down her neck and she knew she was flushing exactly as she'd pictured in her fantasy. The thought both thrilled and frightened her.

He turned towards her so they were standing face to face. His eyes stayed resolutely on hers, even as the uptick in her breath caused her chest to press up against the neckline of her gown. Her corset felt like it was strangling her. What was it she meant to say?

"A-about Belladonna," she stammered, resisting the urge to lean closer to him, to lick her lips in preparation for the kiss she wanted very badly to steal from his lips. He loomed before her and she realized they'd stepped towards one another.

Cedric fought hard to keep her face in focus. She always looked immaculate, but today she presented a particularly alluring appearance. The cut of her dress clung to her curves, dipping in at the waist before flaring out in yards of fabric around her hips. And while he knew nothing of fashionable hairstyles, he certainly liked the way her auburn ringlets had been pinned back, drawing attention to her heart-shaped face. The long morning out under the sun had kissed the tip of her nose and apples of her cheeks with a hint of pink, deepened by an enticing blush that spread over the tops of her breasts. Her lips darkened to the tone of berry wine and he wondered dazedly if she tasted as sweet as she looked. But then he knew damn well that she did.

He swallowed. "What about Bella?"

She still held his sleeve between her fingers and let her touch loosen, sliding over the velvety fabric until coming to the end. The tips of her fingers touched lightly over the back of his gloved hand. She struggled to remember what she wanted to say. "Um."

A blot against the clear blue sky captured her attention over his shoulder. The speck of black came closer, taking a recognizable form. Sofia sucked in a quick breath, lips parting.

Cedric watched her face transform from dazed bemusement to quiet wonder. So intent on her he stumbled when an unexpected weight pushed down his right shoulder. He turned his head, gawking at the raven perched there.

Sofia laughed in delighted surprise.

"What?" Belladonna squawked in feigned ignorance. "Can't a bird stretch her wings without everyone getting all weepy?"

Reaching up to run her finger over the smooth feathers along the raven's back, Sofia smiled. "It looks like someone doesn't want to leave you."

His answering smile sparked a blossom of warmth to burst bright and full in her chest.

* * *

"Princess, a message arrived for you."

After Cedric left her to attend to his duties, she'd spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering the gardens, deep in thought. When she returned to the castle much later, Baileywick surprised her, brandishing a thick envelope of creamy velum. She thanked him, taking the missive. She didn't have to check the seal to know where it was from. A nervous flutter beat in her chest. She hated to disappoint people, and she didn't know how news of her cancellation would be received.

She waited until behind the closed doors of her room before opening the missive. Scanning the elegant lines of script she felt a mingled reaction of relief and anxiety. Sebastian expressed regret but understanding. He seemed genuinely free of offense, indicating only sympathy and admiration for Sofia's commitment to her friend. She wondered if he'd be so understanding if he knew the history of her and her "friend". Even benevolent Sebastian would be hard-pressed to show compassion if he knew he'd been blown-off for her former lover.

Sofia looked up from the parchment, blinking at that last thought. So consumed with convincing Cedric and herself that they were only friends, if gave her a devious thrill to remember that they were indeed ex-lovers. Over the past week she'd worked hard to keep her true thoughts and feeling at bay, presenting a placid mask of polite decorum, that she felt quite exhausted by the increasing effort. The more time she spent with Cedric the harder it became to ignore her instincts.

She turned her attention back to Sebastian's letter, reading to the end. Though hard to decipher tone, he appeared honestly undeterred by her cancellation, perhaps hoping her excuse was an honest emergency rather than a ploy to avoid him. He expressed cautious optimism that she might allow him to accompany her to the flying derby races next week.

Sinking down on the chair, she groaned and wrapped her arms around her head. What was she going to do? On paper the path seemed so clear. She was a princess who should marry a prince, and, oh hey, here was a prince pursuing her, showing a genuine interest in winning her affection. What was there to think about?

 _But ..._

 _Yeah_ , she sighed to herself, resting her head on the desk, _but ..._

 _She wanted ..._

What she wanted, she couldn't have.

 _But, she wanted ..._

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, so the song doesn't quite fit this chapter (what with being about abortions and alcoholism and whatnot) but some of the lyrics fit. And I just really like that song.


	14. Chapter 14

Intoxication: Chapter Fourteen

* * *

 _Do you know where your heart is?  
Do you think you can find it?  
Or did you trade it for something  
Somewhere better just to have it?_

Do you know where your love is?  
Do you think that you lost it?  
You felt it so strong, but  
Nothing's turned out how you wanted

Well, bless my soul  
You're a lonely soul  
'Cause you won't let go  
Of anything you hold

Well, all I need  
Is the air I breathe  
And a place to rest my head

Do you know what your fate is?  
And are you trying to shake it?  
You're doing your best dance,  
Your best look  
You're praying that you make it

-OneRepublic, _All I Need_

* * *

"Do you miss it?"

Sofia took a break from inspecting the parade of winged mounts strutting past the paddock to consider the question. Sebastian stood beside her looking impeccable in a green blazer that complimented his eyes. She smiled at his teasing tone.

"Of course. Don't you?"

"I still get out when I can to ride Stormier, but it doesn't compare to competition racing."

They both watched the horses sauntering by. Derby day was one of Sofia's favored activities. She missed riding as a participant, but the races still held a certain excitement nonetheless. When Sebastian asked to escort her, she'd had reservations, but decided to accept. He was good company and they conversed with ease. She knew he had expectations that differed from her own, but she hoped spending time together would entice her feelings to grow.

He offered his arm and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Shall we place a bet?"

His smile brought out her own. Gambling was considered illicit and below the notice of a princess, but Sebastian suggested it with the naught aplomb of a tempting angel. His kind face was pleasing to her eyes, but she felt no more than a passing interest in his features. She forced warmth into her smile.

"I'm afraid I don't have any coin with me," she answered honestly. Despite belonging to the richest family in the kingdom she seldom needed to carry money.

"I think I can spot you," he teased. "If you promise to split your winnings with me."

When she laughed his eyes lit up with pleased satisfaction. "I suppose we could agree on that, but what if I lose?"

He slanted his eyes in a sideways glance that was almost shy. "I'm sure I can devise some form of repayment."

Sofia knew he meant nothing salacious, probably hinting at a simple kiss, but she flushed at the suggestion. She tried to remember how a demure debutant would respond. "I'll have to make sure not to lose then," she bantered.

His placed his hand over his heart mimicking a wound. "Ouch," he said, but his eyes shown with amusement.

They strolled the parade grounds for a while longer, inspecting mounts and riders before making their way over to the betting booths. Sofia placed a gold sovereign on a slender young girl riding a lavender mare. Sebastian bet on a handsome stallion, it's rider a boy of close to seventeen years of age.

"I'll have to start devising my price, Princess, I fear you've wasted your bet."

Though his tone was light and his meaning mild, she frowned. "What makes you say that?"

"That girl is Milicent Prunce from Stovania. They are not known for their horses or their riders."

"And your bet?" Displeasure crept into her tone.

"Prince Charlies D'Lance from Glainsway. They've been breeding racing stock for hundreds of years."

Sofia slipped her hand out of his grip. "Well, I'm going to cheer for her and if that inspires her to do her very best than I will consider it money well spent." She arched her brow. "Especially considering it's your money."

Sebastian laughed out right. "Forgive me Princess, I didn't mean to offend. I'm sure she'll prove a fine racer. As I recall there was a spectacular upset about, oh, ten years ago when an upstart little girl on a stocky mount beat the pants off all the favored winners."

She didn't know how she felt about him calling Minimus stocky, but she softened a little. Lately she'd been quick to take offense at the smallest provocation. Feigning indifference, she said, "Well, we'll just have to watch the races to see which of us is right."

Sebastian paused, looking at her in a way that made her anxious. He had a strange, soft look in his eyes and a subtle smile danced on his lips. "I feel that being right isn't worth the price of your displeasure with me."

Sofia didn't know how to respond so she remained silent.

"Wait here a moment," he said, before turning back towards the betting stalls. He was back a few minutes later, a stub of paper in his hand.

"What's that?" She asked

"I had them change my bet. I put 20 sovereigns on little Milly Prunce to win. As you said, if it inspires her to keep racing her all, then it is money well spent."

Sofia blinked, stuck momentarily speechless. "You didn't have to do that."

He offered her his arm again and she took it, feeling ill at ease. She realized the confusing feeling rising inside her was guilt. Sebastian could certainly afford to throw away 20 gold coins on a horse race, and her faith in little Milly, as Sebastian called the rider, was sincere. It wasn't the loss of his coin she felt responsible for.

Since cancelling their first date to stay with Cedric, Sofia determined to attend this date with every intention of devoting her full efforts towards garnering a sincere interest in Sebastian. He was the commensurate suitor: of good breeding, heir to his throne, a kind and sincere person; he was everything she should desire in a beau. And that the heir-apparent to a prestigious kingdom wished to court the step-daughter of a king, who was once no more than a cobbler widow's child, was frankly more than she should have wished for. While she knew her family hoped the best for her, and expected a good match within the ranks of gentry, she was still somewhat less than the natural born royalty. She existed in some nebulous middle, the only princess step-child.

Sebastian seemed to be sincere in his curiosity of her. He listened intently when she spoke and asked intriguing questions, probing into her life without appearing insolent. The afternoon was passing quickly, the feeling similar to a day she spent with Jade strolling through the village, or helping Princess Jun with her family's winter festival preparations. It felt like whiling away a pleasant afternoon with a friend, nothing more.

Sebastian was well-versed on Enchancia's politics and they spoke at length about matters of state, something her village, or even princess friends rarely wanted to do. She inquired about Royaume out of genuine interest. He spoke at length, answering her questions without a hint of a patronizing tone. Despite the unspoken looming judgment on compatibility, she found herself enjoying the day, only feeling minor pangs of anxiety when Sebastian turned his brilliant smile on her.

He was quick to smile, and Sofia found her attention waning as her imagination wandered. The warm, friendly feeling she received from Sebastian didn't compare to the brilliant triumph of coaxing a full smile from Cedric's sardonic expression. It wasn't a competition, she reminded herself, but there was something to chipping back the layers, exposing Cedric's deeply hidden elation that didn't compare to Sebastian's easy countenance. Sebastian wore his emotions for the world to see, no subterfuge necessary.

When the races went off, Sofia stood by his side, both of them cheering loudly for Milly. Small and fleet, the little rider outpaced most of the competition swiftly. In the end she came in second, narrowing missing victory to another female rider. The boy Sebastian bet on at the first never finished, forced to bail off when his mount spooked at the bell tower climb. Though they both lost their bet, they still clapped until their hands hurt when the first three finishers were announced.

Sebastian didn't press for repayment for his lost sovereign, and Sofia felt a swell of gratitude towards him. They spent the remaindered of the event talking with lazy ease until it was time to bid one another good bye.

* * *

The carriage ride back to the castle with her family was tense and quiet. No one asked her about Sebastian, which only heightened the feeling that everyone was actively _avoiding_ asking. As if her mother and father feared showing interest in the match would only scare her off the Royaume prince for good. The previous week her mother had shown a cautious interest, inquiring why she cancelled at the last minute. Sofia had done some careful verbal footwork, framing her answer around her feelings of responsibility for Belladonna. She had been the one to find her and insist the bird be nursed back to health. It only seemed right that she take responsibility for her reintroduction to the wild.

Her mother showed patient understanding, up to and including when Sofia told her about Sebastian's subsequent invitation. Her father never did comment on the matter, probably on the advice of his wife. James seemed subtly pleased. Amber had been the most surprising of all. Sofia expected to spend the week up to Derby Day getting her ear talked off by a disappointed and waspish blond, but instead her sister had looked at her with calculating eyes, tapping her lips in thought for a full minute. At the time Sofia had grown nervous, wondering if somehow Amber had become suspicious of her true motives. Instead the blond had given her silent assessment and rendered her judgment in favor of Sofia's actions.

When Sofia displayed surprise that Amber thought cancelling their first date was a good thing, Amber explained. "You don't want to appear too available. Always leave them wanting more."

But Sofia couldn't escape Amber's opinion on the subject for too long, and today she barely had time to exit the carriage before Amber was there, linking arms and none too subtly leading Sofia out of ear shot of their parents.

"Oh my goodness," Amber shrilled like an over-excited peacock. "Did you see the way Sebastian was looking at you today? He couldn't take his eyes off you. Oh, Sofia!"

She waxed rhapsodically for a while and Sofia let her go on, knowing to intervene would prove useless. Amber proceeded to catalog all of Sebastian's physical traits, as if Sofia hadn't spent the last six hours in his presence. "And those green eyes," Amber's free hand fluttered to her chest in an approximation of a damsel about to faint.

"If you like him so much, why don't you date him," Sofia huffed, the annoyance and anger that had become characteristic over the last five months rearing its head.

Misreading her ire, Amber patted Sofia's arm in what was surely meant to be a comforting gesture, but came off condescending to Sofia's tender feelings. "Look at you," Amber beamed, throwing her sister for a loop. She appeared far too proud for someone who'd just been snapped at. "So jealous and protective already."

 _Jealous?_ Sofia considered a moment. Nope, she knew what jealousy felt like and this wasn't it.

"Amber," Sofia began, uncertain how to make her sister understand.

"No need to apologize," the blond soothed, misreading the signs yet again. "Besides, I have Zandar. Princess's Honor, I would never dream of taking a suitor from a fellow princess."

Sofia held back a snort with effort. Amber would most certainly coax an eligible suitor from another girl. She'd seen it, especially between Amber and Hildegard. Still, she knew her sister would never do something like that to her. Besides, there seemed to be an unspoken rule that when their appeared to be real affection between a couple, the rival princess stepped demurely aside.

"How are you and Zandar?" Sofia asked, hoping to turn the attention away from her own love life.

A pretty blush infused Amber's face and Sofia realized for the first time that her sister harbored honest feelings of affection for the young man. Usually Amber played around with her suitors, seeming to test their mettle against her own scale of worthiness, and never stayed with the same prospect for more than a few social engagements, but she and Zandar had been somewhat exclusive for months now. Suddenly Sofia's interest was piqued for real.

"We're good," she answered, voice carefully even.

Sofia leveled her with a look that would make Ruby proud.

"We're really good," Amber amended, her carefully constructed mask starting to crack. "Oh, Sofia, when I spoke to Zandar at Valentine's Day I only wanted to make Hugo jealous. I didn't know that I'd actually ... That we'd ..."

Sofia waited, lending a patient ear while her sister picked through her thoughts.

"I really like him, Sof."

It seemed a simple thing to say, but Sofia understood how closely Amber guarded her feelings. That she would admit as much meant what she felt for Zandar actually went much deeper.

"And," Sofia prompted, "How do you think he feels about you?"

The flush that colored her cheeks deepened and spread down her face. A smile began to work its way across her face, a genuine one that Amber rarely wore except when alone with the family. "I think he likes me too." She hesitated only a moment before adding. "I think he loves me."

"And ...," she tightened her arm where Amber's was linked with hers, a giddy smile on her own face.

"And," Amber rolled her eyes for dramatic effect, but by now she was beaming. "I think I might, sort of, love him too."

"Oh, Amber!" her sister beamed, truly pleased by the news. A small, dark voice came out of nowhere to whisper, _Well at least one of us gets to be happy_. She ignored it as best she could.

"And," Amber pushed on, perhaps embarrassed by her admission, "I expect a proposal will be forth coming shortly. So, you see, it's perfect. I'll marry Zandar, becoming queen of Tangu and you'll marry Sebastian and be queen of Royamune and we'll both live happily ever after, like princesses should."

Sofia felt her happy mood sinking further with every word. Amber was back in strategy mode, detailing their perfect destinies as if they were no more than characters in a story book. And that's where Sofia's happiness for such a future existed, only on paper.

It was so easy to say happily ever after, it was another thing entirely to live it.

They'd been walking a circuit around the perimeter of the castle away from the prying ears and eyes of their parents, but Amber never cared or showed much discretion in front of anyone else, including their brother or any member of staff. They rounded the far corner of the western end of the castle, entering the gardens. The lilac blooms had faded away, leaving the summer lilies to take their place along the base of the hedgerow.

Miss Ellen, a plump woman in her fifties knelt on the ground just off the path, pulling weeds. She paused to offer a greeting to the two young women. Sofia had to stop herself from offering to help. She liked gardening, found it soothing to nurture growing things with her hands. She didn't even mind plucking weeds, enjoying the feel of soil beneath her bare hands. Unlike other girls her age she'd never shied away from creeping crawling things like spiders or worms. She remembered a time when they were children, she'd run up to Amber, a fat wriggling earthworm cupped in her hands. Amber had screamed so loud that both their parents came running out, afraid someone was gravely injured.

In the distance she heard the scratchy voice of Mister Greeves, the head gardener. His voice was raised, but Sofia knew that meant little. The only thing the diminutive man ever got truly angry with were invasive pests and weeds.

Amber continued to detail out their respective futures, unaware of her sister's waning attention. As long as she had an audience, the blond could talk in endless loops, skipping easily from one topic to another, as long as they were of her interests. Sofia lost track of Amber's words while she amused herself cataloging flora in her head.

 _That's purple cone flower_ , she thought, _good for steeping in tea to improved health_.

When they reached the end of the hedge, she nearly stumbled. Mister Greeves was shaking a fist full of dark green stalks, clumps of dirt still clinging to the roots. Some clods fell off landing on the shoes of the man he was currently admonishing, as if he were personally responsible for the scourge of a particularly nasty weed infestation.

Cedric sighed for what felt like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. He decided right then and there that he would never again go above and beyond the call of his duty. Having provided such stellar work this year, going beyond his usual level of assistance, the staff now saw fit to bother him about every little inconvenience, as if magic was some omnipotent cure-all and he an inexhaustible demi-god dolling out his benevolent will. Any other time he would have drank up the attention, but right now all he felt was intensely annoyed.

The short little man who oversaw the gardens had been brandishing a handful of weeds at him, yelling words like "incursion" and "blight". The only real words that interested Cedric were a few that the man had actually said, including "resistant to the current weed-killing formula", and the words the man had yet to say, like "that's all" and "have a nice day". He didn't even care if the man thanked him, just so long as he let Cedric leave.

Honestly, he'd stopped listening eight minutes ago, mentally cataloguing his supply cabinet and making a mental note to get more Boar's Bell when it was ready to harvest near the end of the month. Deep in his own thoughts, the unexpected appearance of both Princesses Sofia and Amber startled him more than it should.

"Can you imagine it?" Amber was saying, rather more loudly than strictly necessary. "When I'm married to Zandar, and you're married to Sebastian we can have the most lavish parties and rub our wealth in every one's face. Although, that's certainly not the point," she amended quickly. "Oh! And once we have children they can play with their cousins at each other's castles. Zandar and I would make the most gorgeous babies. And you and Sebastian, they could have their father's green eyes and your complexion, how adorable would that be?"

But Sofia wasn't picturing green-eyes babies with milky skin, she was preoccupied watching Cedric turn a delicate shade of green himself.

The gardener continued unabated in his tirade on the scourge of weeds and something about "before they go to seed", completely unaware that the recipient of his dissertation's attention had turned away completely.

Sofia felt something akin to panic creep up her throat, wanting to be somewhere, anywhere, else. "God Amber," she snapped, rather more harshly than she intended, "It's was one date. No one is getting married."

Amber rallied immediately, always ready to fight a good fight. "I'm just being optimistic, Sofia. It's that what you always tell everyone, to look on the bright side? Besides, Sebastian wouldn't have even asked you out if he wasn't considering the possibility."

She'd known. Of course Sofia had know cerebrally that it had to be true, but to hear someone else say it, and in front of the one other person that she didn't wish to think on such information, made it terribly real.

Amber arched a brow in triumph, only reading half as much into Sofia's struck expression as the brunette was actually feeling. Obviously Amber thought Sofia would be naively surprised, but ultimately delighted by such a revelation. She pressed her advantage. "Did he ask you on a second date?"

Sofia pressed her lips together in a thin line. He had, but she didn't want to say so in front of their current audience. She hazarded a glance in Cedric's direction.

He snatched the handful of offending weeds from the Mister Greeves's hands, snarling sarcastically, "Yes, I believe I understand. Weeds: bad. I get it." Before stomping off to leave a perplexed gardener in his wake.

"Well?" Amber tugged on her arm to get her attention, paying no attention to the scene playing out down the garden path.

"Um." Sofia said, watching his dark form retreating into the distance. "Look, Amber I have to go. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Before her sister could protest, Sofia slipped out of her grip and took off at what could politely be called a hurried pace. A princess didn't run, after all. Though she'd never heeded that rule much, but she didn't wish to draw any more attention than she already was.

"Sofia!" she heard Amber call in disbelieving annoyance, before muttering. "Unbelievable."

But Amber didn't deign to follow her and that's all Sofia hoped for at the moment. She grasped a handful of skirt to walk a little faster, keeping Cedric's long-legged gait in sight. She caught up to him at the Northern entrance, sweating lightly inside the confining layers of her derby gown. Not for the first time she wished for the easy movement of her riding breeches.

"Hi," she smiled brightly, putting on an easy countenance that she didn't feel. She knew he'd heard Amber's loud, excited boasting about weddings and castles and green-eyed babes.

Cedric turned to her with an expression somewhere between 'cautiously pleased' and 'about to be ill'. It was a difficult balancing act of emotions, but somehow he managed it. There was a long pause before he finally grumbled, "Hello."

She cast about for a safe topic of conversation. "What was it Mister Greeves was going on about?"

"Weeds," Cedric mumbled, appearing only half aware of their current conversation. He seemed to come back from a long way off, grasping the life raft of neutral territory. "Yes, something about weeds. They're, um, not reacting to the normal potions."

"Oh," She smiled, realizing that some magical experimentation was required. "So, you'll have to make up something new. Can I help? I can just run to my room and get changed-"

"No!" Cedric spoke more loudly than he intended, but when she offered to help, to be willingly shut away with him for long hours ... Well, it really wasn't all that different from any other day, but right now he couldn't handle the strained, unspoken words that would hang over them.

Amber's inquiry about a second date with Prince What'shisname ( _Sebastian, he knew, but he didn't like to admit it_ ) had created a knot of tension in his stomach. He both wanted desperately to know the answer, but at the same time felt he would rather have voluntarily sliced off his own ears than hear. The extremely of his response really depended on the answer. If the answer was no, then he wanted to know. But if it was yes, well that didn't bear thinking on. Either way, he couldn't stand the tension, so he fell back on his old stand-by: ignoring the issue completely. And for that to be successful he could not be shut in a small room, in complete, unhindered privacy, with the woman that some primitive, and probably wrong, portion of his mind told him he merely need take to bed to solve the problem. Okay, so that part was more than just "probably wrong", but it sure would make him feel better about life if only for a half an hour, or so.

A look of intense hurt passed over her face, but he fumbled on, feeling the urgent, panicky feeling to leave- _**NOW**_ \- before he made a bigger fool of himself. "You've had an eventful day already, Princess," he blurted, hardly knowing what he was saying. "Wouldn't wish to inconvenience you. Besides, it's just a few weeds. I think I can handle it."

"Of course you can- I wasn't suggesting ...," she sounded confused and a little lost.

"No, I know you weren't. I just- I'm just going to, um- go." And with that bit of brilliant allocution, he escaped into the castle, feeling for all the world like the biggest idiot in existence.

* * *

Inside his workshop he locked the door. Dropping the handful of crumpled stalks on his desk, he slumped into his chair, giving over to the satisfying temptation of lapsing into self-pity.

 _Why me?_

Why couldn't he fall for a nice milkmaid, or shop girl? Why couldn't he love that woman from the bookstore with the glasses that made her look like an overly surprised owl? She'd always shown an unusual amount of interest in him. He went off a tiny fantasy about how avian their beak nosed, big eyes children would look. It was not a pleasant image. And she always smelled like cheese for some reason. And she was dreadfully boring.

Oh, right, that's why he'd never been in love before, because apparently anyone who wasn't a beautiful, generous, happy albeit slightly annoying at times, princess wasn't worth his notice. Perhaps he should consider setting his standards lower. Like, way lower.

 _Speaking of babies_ \- No, he wasn't thinking about it.

He dragged a thick book on herbology off the shelf, opening it across his desk. He set about identifying this mystery weed that had Mister Greeves so vexed. It was very important, or something.

He thumbed through several pages, none matching the clump of green stalks sullying his table. Nope, he passed another group of pages, no flowers to speak of, just green stalks. Green. He hated the color green.

Nope, he wasn't thinking about it, remember?

He wasn't thinking about babies, and he wasn't thinking about the color green, and he certainly wasn't thinking about Sofia's theoretical future green-eyed babies specifically.

Right _,_ Taraxacum Officinale, the common dandelion. Certainly not it. He turned the page with significantly more force than necessary, nearly tearing it out.

He took a break from abusing his poor book, which really had done nothing to deserve such treatment, to ran his hands roughly through his hair. Apparently he was going to think about it whether he really wanted to or not.

The answer to Amber's question didn't really matter. If this Prince What'shisname ( _Sebastian, and really what kind of name was that anyway?_ ) hadn't invited Sofia to a second date, he easily could via missive. And if he never did, then there would be another waiting in line to exploit Prince What'shisname's obvious idiocy at letting such a woman go. And really, if he hadn't jumped at the chance for another date with Sofia then his genetics were obviously deficient and he probably shouldn't breed. Ever. With anyone.

But assuming his parents weren't first cousins, or something similar, and his genetic weren't faulty, and he wasn't a complete idiot and he had invited her to a future social engagement, well than it really was only a formality of time before the future as Amber so eloquently detailed it unfolded. Whether this prince or another, Sofia would one day marry and invariably leave.

He couldn't decide if that made it better or worse.

Neither, he decided, as by then he surely would have gone insane. Probably at her wedding. At least it would make for an interesting story. On their anniversary _(Happy Anniversary to Mr. and Mrs. What'stheirnames_ ) they could reminisce how he'd lost his mind half way through the vows, stripped off his clothes, and run stark naked through the royal fountain.

While self-pity was something he excelled at, even he found it tiresome after a fashion. So, assuming he didn't go wobbygobbing mad and Sofia did move away to live her blessed happily ever after destiny with her Prince, surely that wouldn't be it. He'd see her again. She'd visit her family, Royamune being only a short flying carriage ride away. He'd see her. Hear her detail her new life as wife and queen. Then one day she'd come bearing news of her joyous new family addition (and he absolutely refused to think on exactly _how_ this news would come to exist). Perhaps she'd already be sporting a subtle swell to her flat ( _and lickable- Shut up memory! No one asked you_ ) mid-drift.

She'd be flush with pleasure, thinking about her green-eyed, milky skinned babe, King What'shisname standing proudly by her side. Oh, that's right, he'd probably come along too when she came to visit and then Cedric's hell would be complete.

He gave up on any semblance of sanity and dropped his head on the work table, banging his forehead a few times for good measure. Head trauma seemed a lovely respite at the moment.

The image of Sofia in a loose bodiced gown, caressing her swollen abdomen with gentle hands blossomed in his mind's eye. She'd croon soft words while cradling the precious bump. She'd look up, smiling while her skin glowed radiantly, glowing with newly created life.

He'd only every given the most cursory consideration to children. Working in a hereditary position, he'd only ever thought of children as a necessary acquisition, something to be ticked off the list, eventually. He just never seemed to get around to the business of procuring a mother for said imaginary child. And one was as far as his imagination had ever gotten, remembering his sister with distaste. Siblings, ugh. And he only needed one heir to pass the torch of Royal Sorcerer. Or Sorceress. Gender didn't matter much to him. Unlike his father, he would discriminate against a girl child. Cedric couldn't count the number of times he wished his parents had chosen his sister to take on the family title.

But, the image of Sofia round and happy, smiling radiantly at, well, at him, was far more tantalizing than he'd ever thought before. He decided the idea of black-haired blue-eyed children were infinitely preferable.

His also decided that more head banging was called for.

He got as far as three before a sharp nip to his shoulder made him turn his head, forehead still pressed to the wood.

Belladonna inspected him with one black eye before cocking her head to look with her other eye, as if further study could define exactly what her master had been trying to accomplish. She must have figured something out, or given up, because she opted to nibble gently on his nose until he reached over to stroke her feathers.

The corner of his mouth turned up in a doleful imitation of a smile. "Well, I suppose there is one woman I can count on."

Bella cawed before spreading her wings to glide over to the half-empty checker board, still in disarray from their last game. She was learning quickly, and Cedric thought they might move on to chess in a few weeks.

She tapped one of the game pieces with her beak.

"You know," he said thoughtfully as he came over to join her," Sometimes I think you understand much more than you let on."

She didn't bother to respond, so he set about arraigning the pieces for a new game. The damn weeds could wait.

* * *

Author note: So this chapter wrote itself in one sitting, except the part at the beginning about Sofia's date with Sebastian. That part I wrote over a month ago. The point it, this chapter had quite a bit more humor in it than I intended. I just couldn't seem to stop with Cedric's internal sarcasm and side comments. I hope you guys enjoyed it.


	15. Chapter 15

Author's note: So glad you guys are enjoying this fic. Your reviews make my day. So, I thought I should probably give you guys some idea of how much longer this fic has to go. I'd say in terms of numbers of chapters we're half way. What? Half-way, you say? How is that possible? Well, story-wise we're a little more than half-way but I still have a lot of ground to cover. Don't worry, this fic doesn't just spiral off for infinity with no end in sight. There is a definite story arch that I've been following.

* * *

Intoxication: Chapter 15

The royal gardens glowed like a fairy paradise. As dusk set on the night of Sofia's nineteenth birthday, her guests gathered on the garden terrace to enjoy the sultry warmth of an early August evening. Humid air clung to the skin of every guest and the gentry sweat in their layered finery.

Cedric didn't feel the least bit sorry for them, plucking at the high collar of his own heavy robes. He wished he could loosen his tie, open the top buttons of his shirt and let in what little air there was to be had, but instead he had to suffer in silence, sweaty and irritated.

Standing here, in nearly the identical spot where he stood a year ago, it was impossible not to remember the first moment he realized he cared for her beyond friendship, beyond propriety. At her eighteenth birthday party, he'd performed the hardest spell he'd ever attempted, but he'd wanted to do something special for her. It had nothing to do with showing off, or awing the guests on behalf of his patron kingdom, it was all for her.

That should have been his first clue.

For centuries alchemists sought the secret of turning ordinary metal into gold. Cedric himself had dappled in the practice, mixing ingredients and potions, but it was so much easier to use conjury. The easiest lessons in magic dealt with transmutation, changing one item into something else. Any child could perform such a trick with enough practice and a wand. Magicians mostly relied on variations of this simple branch of magic to awe simple-minded crowds. Very few grasped the subtle differences in the various branches of magic, simply labeling any distortion of the ordinary under the umbrella of magic. Fifteen years of sorcery school was no joke. Even the worst sorcerer could perform feats beyond the wildest imaginings of the average magician. But tell that to the common people. Even royalty didn't understand the extent of his capabilities, relegating him to parlor tricks and illusions.

Even so conjuring elements from the air was no small feat. The four elements were the easiest: drawing forth air, water, earth or fire. Heavy metals were the most arduous. The denser the material, the harder it was to collect the necessary ingredients from the surrounding elements. Most people wondered why sorcerers weren't rich, simply producing vast amounts of wealth from thin air. Or their kingdoms weren't swimming in gold. Because creating real precious metals, not just an illusion was draining and hardly worth the immense effort.

He'd practiced the spell in small doses inside his workshop. He didn't need to create real gold, but rather silver. Not because silver was easier to conjure, but it complimented Sofia so much more. The first tries ended in near disaster, as he'd hastily put out a half dozen fires. After weeks of practice, he felt confident he could produce the desired effect without ending in embarrassing disaster.

Sofia had stood in the middle of the garden dais, looking resplendent and mature in a satin gown with a low back and heart-shaped neckline. The Amulet of Avalor lay across her chest, complimenting her delicate crown and simple amethyst bracelet. At Princess Amber's joint party with her brother, Cedric has found her cheap and gaudy, dripping with jewels. Gold bangles encrusted with multi-colored gems encircles the blond princess' wrists. A thick necklace, heavy with rubies the size of his thumb dipped into her cleavage. Even her hair and dress glittered with gemstones. At the time Cedric had mused how she managed the weight of so much ornamentation.

Even at Sofia's party, Amber wore more jewelry than her younger sister. Somehow Sofia's subtle adornments made her outshine every garish gown or be-jeweled trinket. Sofia blushed at the attention, subtly pleased when her father raised a toast in her honor. The princess graciously raised her glass to her guests before sipping champagne. Her naive parents believed they were allowing a treat, her first taste of alcohol now that she was officially an adult. Cedric could have snorted at the notion. It was as if the king and queen had never been teenagers themselves. He remembered the morning after some princess or other's party. Sofia had arrived at his door squinting, a hand to her head, begging for some cure. He hadn't felt the least bit bad producing a glass of water and nothing more, before informing her that hangover or no he expected her to perform her apprentice duties as usual. She'd scowled with open contempt, but he put her through her paces that day, watching with hidden amusement when she turned green sorting a new shipment of troll toenail clippings. He took pity on her sometime around noon, finally producing a potion to relieve her symptoms, but the lesson had been clear: If she was going to imbibe in drink she was on her own to suffer the consequences.

He watched with a hidden smirk as she delicately sipped her glass, taking care to drink slowly. After the toast, the king introduced him, calling the attention of the crowd. Even after so many years he still felt a flutter of nerves every time a room full of people turned his way, expectant. But when Sofia's eyes turned to him, a wide smile on her face, he felt the rest fall away. He had an audience of one, and only her opinion of him mattered, and he knew she believed him capable of anything.

He pointed his wand with confidence, knowing he couldn't let her down. Uttering a string of incantations, his wand flickered to and fro, before with a sharp flick silver white light shot forth up into the sky. The light burst out into a million filaments, coalescing and falling down like snow. Sofia watched, her head tilted back and her lips parted in awe. The silvery flakes drifted down, casting their own light, and when they fell upon the collected guests they stuck and shimmered, casting the entire party in starlight. Their man-made baubles and glittery fabrics paled in comparison. Murmurs of appreciative praise rose around the terrace, but he barely heard them.

Sofia stood alone in the center, her palms up to catch and examine the silvery lights. A wide smile of wonderment stretched across her face, but when she turned to look at him over her shoulder something changed. Her eyes softened upon him before she dropped her gaze to the floor. When she raised her gaze back up, she peeked at him from beneath her lashes, biting her lower lip between her teeth.

The effect was devastating.

For ten years he'd been her teacher, her friend, and occasional tormentor, and he never suspected to feel anything more. He'd known her from a child, watched her grow up, had even had a hand in her education, so he was completely unprepared to have her look on him in that way: in the way a woman looks at a man she desires. His expression blanked, his brain sending confused signals as a jolt of raw lust tightened his loins. She'd tried to approach him, no doubt to gush as she always did over his latest feat of magic, but he'd bolted, horrified by his body's reaction.

That was where it really began, his attraction cum obsession with her. He spent six months wrestling the demon that whispered in the back of his mind, highlighting her developed curves against the knowledge of her suddenly adult age, as if eighteen were some magical threshold that made it all alright for him to lust for her. He'd spent weeks pitted in the hell of his thoughts, in turns sickened and intrigued by this new attraction. Eventually he came to some peace, acknowledging his attraction, forgiving himself for it, but determined never to act. Until she showed up at his door step in February begging him to love her.

He looked about the garden now, his eyes seeking out a figure in lavender. She was standing in a cluster of guests, all roughly her age. A man a few years older stood by her side, his hand casually cupping her lower back. Cedric's eyes narrowed. _Sebastian_ , the name rose bile in the back of his throat. The Royaume prince had been courting Sofia for over a month now.

As he suspected, the answer to Princess Amber's inquiry made itself known in short order. The prince had indeed invited her on a subsequent outing. From what little Cedric could fetter out, because he absolutely refused to ask and had to rely on half-herd conversations in the castle kitchens, Sofia was keeping the prince at arm's length, but not rebuffing his invitations outright. He also learned that the king seemed to support the match, while the queen's opinion on the matter remained enigmatic.

Sofia still came to his workshop regularly, spouting thin excuses for her continued presence. He didn't deter her as they were attempting to remain friends, but nor did he encourage her presence. It didn't seem to matter either way, he was miserable without her and equally miserable with her as it reminded him of the approaching day when she'd be gone from him for good.

On her visits she talked at length, as if scared any lapse in conversation would prompt him to toss her out. She talked about her horse, her friend's new baby, the latest gown fashions, Amber's continuing conquest to snare the prince of Tangu, and Belladonna, but they never, never discussed Sebastian.

Bella donna had settled in to his study quite nicely, providing some solace to his bruised heart. She appeared to have grown fond of regular meals, coupled with warmth and protection. After the day he attempted to release her and she'd chosen to return, he'd dug Wormwood's old cage out of storage, remembering his old friend fondly as he brushed away cobwebs and dust. If pressed, he'd have to admit the bird was a godsend, easing the long hours of isolation. He renewed his old habit of talking out loud to his pet as if she could understand him, at times he felt she could. He left certain things unsaid, though, as he was still quite certain Sofia could understand the bird in a much different way.

"Cedric."

The king appeared at his elbow, startling him out of his brooding. "Your majesties."

The queen stood beside her husband, her arm woven through his. Cedric glance at the queen, recognizing how Sofia had grown to resemble the woman, but at the same time appeared completely apart. They shared the same eyes and heart-shaped face, but Sofia's alabaster completion held none of her mother's dusky tones. He wondered what Sofia's father had looked liked to produce such an ethereal-looking child.

"We're just about ready for the royal toast," the king was saying. "Are you prepared for your performance?"

Cedric turned his sour frown into a simpering smile with some difficulty. "Of course, your highness."

"It will be hard to top last year," Miranda smiled, her eyes alight with sincere delight. Cedric didn't have to wonder from which parent Sofia inherited her fascination with magic.

"Indeed," he shrugged, "But the princess made a specific request. An old spell, but still good."

"Oh?" Roland asked. "Which one is that?"

"The Morpho Mirrors spell, but I've made a few adjustments to liven it up."

"I hope that doesn't include you flying around the ballroom, banging off the walls this time," he king laughed heartily, clapping the slender sorcerer on the back.

Cedric huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms. "That was not my fault."

Roland didn't appear to hear him, but Miranda frowned with sympathy. "Dear," she directed her husband's attention. "Perhaps it's time we gathered everyone inside for your toast."

"Of course. Cedric you know what to do, I trust."

"Yes, your majesty," he fought to keep his feelings of annoyance from his voice.

He watched them walk away, heading over to speak with their daughter. Sofia seemed at ease, not quite basking in the attention, but accepting it. He was pleased to see Sebastian's hands clasped behind his own back, and off the princess.

Cedric eyed the young man, unable to keep from assessing their contrasting aspect. While Cedric was slight, tall and dark, Sebastian was shorter, with wide shoulder and a tapered waist. His skin appeared tan beneath a head of sandy brown hair. Cedric found him perfectly bland, except of course that he was impeccably dressed in the garb of the wealthy. But unlike others, he kept his look sedate and refined, choosing fine fabrics and subtle adornments. His hand were free of jewels, except for a single signet ring on his right hand. He looked quite the complimentary match beside Sofia and Cedric immediately hated him.

The guests wandered into the ballroom at a leisurely pace. Cedric took the extra moment to compose himself. Not that he would admit it to anyone else, but he'd been struggling lately. Not much, but the occasional spell produced no effect until he cleared his thoughts and tried again. He hadn't had a blundered a spell in years, except when trying a particularly difficult incantation for the first time; but that was to be expected for any sorcerer. No, he had been experiencing issue with familiar spells that should be second nature. For the first time in years, he realized, he was actually nervous. He suspected it had something to do with Sofia and the prince that squired her to the refreshment table to procure a glass of champagne for each of them.

Cedric rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension at the back of his neck. He'd rarely engaged in competition, since he usually failed. But right now he felt the pressure to out shine the impeccably dressed whelp beside _his_ princess. Somewhere in his mind he realized this self-imposed pissing contest was stupid, but that didn't detract the gut reaction to put the other man in his place.

His shook his head, trying to clear away the cobwebs of his dark thoughts. He couldn't very well set this one on fire, and even if he did there would just be another in line behind him, eager to scoop Sofia up. Besides, only Tilly's quick intervention had save his ass last time. After the Spring Fete, once his outrageous anger cleared, reality set in. He'd expected a reprimand from the king, because even if the fire had been an accident, which apparently everyone except Sofia believed, he had been inexcusably rude with the manner in which he chosen to correct the issue. Apparently Tilly had stepped in the dry the young man off and sooth his offended ego.

He mused for a moment on how many of Sofia's suitors could go missing before he was suspected. It probably wouldn't take many. This one prince would probably do it.

His attention turned to the King who raised his glass in a toast to his youngest. She blushed prettily, standing beside the banquet table. A tower of crystal goblets stacked in a pyramid on the table behind her reminded Cedric of the ridiculous excess of the rich. Sofia bore these parties well, but they were not to her liking. Not that she'd ever complain, but he was certain she'd prefer a quiet celebration with her family over the extravagant affair.

She obligingly raised her glass as her father wound down to the end of his speech. Cedric rolled his shoulders again, taking a deep breath to prepare his frazzled nerves. He steadied his wand, only to falter when Sebastian leaned into Sofia, clinking his glass against hers. He whispered something into her ear, making the princess' blush deepen as she smiled. Cedric couldn't fail to notice the prince's hand on her back again and he was standing far too close to her side.

No one else appeared to notice, but then no one else was watching the pair as closely as he was. The room had grown silent and he realized the crowd had turned towards him, waiting. The king frowned his confused displeasure, and Cedric realized he'd missed his introduction.

Sofia tried not to squirm out of Sebastian's arm. She liked him, but having his arm around her, whispering in her ear while Cedric looked on made her feel like a rift was opening in her life, and she was being pulled in different directions, stretched thin by her conflicting duties and desires. Try as she might, she couldn't quite mask her discomfort, a self-conscious flush darkening her cheeks when Sebastian murmured Happy Birthday privately in her ear. For a moment she'd been frozen with fear, expecting he might try to kiss her cheek, but he remained respectful as always and she realized he wouldn't be so crass as to force affections on her in front of a crowd. Especially when their public status was still undecided.

Still, she watched in dismay as Cedric witness the whole affair. She felt helpless watching the color drain from his pale face. The sudden twitch of his body alerted her that the attention of the room had shifted in his direction and he'd only just noticed. He blinked rapidly, scowling to himself, before raising his wand.

Privately, she'd watched him struggled these past few weeks, lapsing back into what was now an uncharacteristic habit of blundering simple spells. She tried to shore up his confidence as best she could, but had the lingering notion that she was more a hindrance than a help to him. She'd fancied it a stroke of genius when she thought to request the Morphos Mirrors spell for her birthday. An old spell, he'd perfected it a decade ago, and, she hoped, he couldn't possibly fail to produce its effects without incident. But watching from the sidelines, wrapped in Sebastian's sure grip, she felt a rising anxiety that bordered on panic. Cedric didn't look at all sure of himself at the moment and her insides twisted, nervous on his behalf.

She realized rather abruptly that he was going to fail. She knew the spell as well as he did, and even though he'd assured her that she added some modifications to produce an adequately spectacular effect, she could see his wand placement was all wrong. She took all this in within a moment, knowing with near instinctual certainty when he was on the verge of a blunder.

A memory came to her from the recess of her memory, when Cedric had become flustered performing for King Midas. Sofia stood on stage as his apprentice and spilled a potion on herself, giving Cedric the opportunity to prove his true skills. She looked around quickly, knowing she couldn't very well turn herself into a newt this time.

Perched on the table's edge, less than an arm's length away, she spotted a silver tray mounded with snowy white napkins. She reached her hand out, as if to steady herself on the table's edge, but instead pushed down on the tray's edge, upending it. The metal tray clattered to the floor with a resounding clang that reverberated throughout the vaulted ceilings.

Startled faces turned her way. Servants rushed over, weaving through the tightly packed crowd to clear the mess.

"Oh!" Sofia covered her mouth, feigning surprise. "I am so sorry. Clumsy me."

She couldn't spare Cedric a glance as she twisted in Sebastian's grip to help clear the mess she made.

"Let me," the prince insisted, placing his free hand of her other hip, he tried to maneuver around her while simultaneously moving her away.

She hadn't anticipated Sebastian's gallant offer and jerked at the feel of his hand circling her waist. Instinctively pulling away from the grip on her, she stumbled forward, catching the edge of the table in both hands to keep from falling. In a disastrous effort to help her, Sebastian pulled harder, trying to right her forward momentum, but only succeeded in putting her farther off balance. Her heeled slipped caught on the hem of her gown and she slipped, falling backwards. She tightened her grip on the table cloth but only succeeded in dragging it with her.

The towered pyramid of champagne goblets swayed dangerously. Sofia had only enough time to murmur, "Oh no," before a shower of champagne and crystal cascaded down upon her. She had the sense to raise her arms to protect her head.

For a moment all she could hear was splashing liquid and shattering glass, then a silence so complete filled the room that she could have heard a proverbial pin drop. She lowered her arms, seeing a distraught Sebastian, his featured twisted with sincere dismay as he took in the mess he unintentionally caused.

Dazed she lower her hand, trying to push herself off the cold and wet floor, but brought her hand back up immediately when she felt a distinct, sharp pain. Holding up her hand, she watched in detached fascination as blood pooled in her palm. Sensation flooded back when she took in the large shard of crystal embedded in her skin. Pain laced through her and she felt ill.

Sebastian stared, stricken and unsure how to help.

Sofia's frightened eyes floated up to his face in time to watch him being physically shoved aside.

"Move, you idiot," a voice snarled, making Sofia blink with the intensity behind the words.

Cedric knelt before her, efficiently clearing bit of shattered crystal with his wand to keep from impaling his knees. His expression remained serious and controlled, despite the blood dripping down his arm as he held her hand up for inspection. Somewhere in the back of her mind Sofia recognized that normally Cedric was squeamish around blood. But his coldly focused eyes never wavered from the seeping gash as he whispered a spell to vanish the shard rather than pull it out and risk causing more damage. With it gone, blood welled faster and she jerked instinctively. He held her hand fast, murmuring healing incantations. She remembered vaguely the day he healed Belladonna in a similar manner.

Her palm tingled with warmth and she watched the skin begin to knit itself together in a seamless line. By the time he finished chanting there was no mark to indicate the gash that had been there only a moment before. Tension drained from her shoulders, making her feel weak.

She raised her eyes to his face, intent to convey her thanks, but the breath caught in her throat. Uncertainty and fear finally flooded his brown eyes and she felt a faint tremor where his hand still gripped hers. She froze, caught in his gaze. For a moment she saw nothing but Cedric. Her fingers curled around his and she felt his thumb sweep over her palm where the skin had been so recently torn, as if assuring himself she was whole and unharmed again.

The moment ended too quickly as light, sound, and feeling rushed back. She shivered, feeling for the first time that she was soaked in cold champagne. Cedric was forced to relinquish her hand when her family pushed through the crowd. The queen reached them first, startled by the blood spattered across her daughter's dress.

"I'm okay," Sofia assured, gingerly taking her mother's hand as the woman helped her to her feet. "I was cut, but Cedric healed me."

The king was right behind his wife, taking in the resulting mess. "Miranda, would you please escort Sofia to her room." He hugged his daughter around the waist, before gently touching her face.

"I'm fine," Sofia pressed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll just get changed and be back."

"Are you sure?" Her father asked quietly. "If you need, we can send everyone home."

"No," she shook her head. "It was just a silly accident. No need to ruin everyone's evening."

The king smiled gently, knowing his daughter well. "I only care about your wellbeing."

Her smile felt brittle. "I know, Dad."

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the king's voice boomed, carrying in the vaulted room. "Princess Sofia assures me she will return shortly. We'll get this cleaned up and resume the festivities shortly."

The king turned to his sorcerer, deep sincerity in his eyes. "Thank you, Cedric."

If they had a different sort of relationship Roland might have clasped him on the shoulder or shook his hand, but he settled for a respectful nod. Cedric stuttered some kind of reply, feeling out of depth. A pang of something he suspected to be guilt jumped in his stomach as he watched the king turn away to handle the confused and frightened guests.

Shivery exhaustion born from expended adrenaline left Cedric feeling nervous and drained. A flash of gold and blue caught the corner of his eyes and he turned his attention to see Sebastian Rousseau standing beside him wearing a similar expression of uncertainty and helplessness.

He tried to muster contempt for the man who had stood there, no more help than a stump while Sofia had sat bleeding on the parquet floor. The insipid noble caused the entire incident and Cedric should be itching to extract a slow vengeance, but instead he felt curiously empty as he stood there looking at the other man. The expression on Sebastian's face hinted that there was little anyone could do to make him feel any worse.

Cedric turned his gaze one last time to Sofia's retreating figure. At the same moment she glanced over her shoulder and Cedric expected her gaze to fall on the man at his side, to look to her prince for comfort. His breath caught when her eyes met his own solidly and held for a long moment.

That shared look lasted only a few seconds before she was swept from the room. He spared a glance at Sebastian, but he seemed unaware of any connection between the princess and the sorcerer. Cedric set to muttering spells, erasing any evidence that anything untoward had taken place. He tried not to linger over the pink rivulets of blood thinned by expensive champagne.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" The Royaume prince had a strongly accented voice, the words rolling with an undulating lilt.

"No," Cedric snapped brusquely, thoroughly unconcerned with being rude.

He felt Sebastian move away, and some of the tension eased from his shoulders. Something tingled at the back on his mind as he concentrated on the task at hand. Anger warred with fear when he remembered her bleeding hand and pained expression.

He feel into a familiar grousing grumpiness, seeking blame to assuage his unbalanced emotions. If that damned prince hadn't tried to help. If some servant hadn't be sloppy in their job, placing an unbalanced tray on the table's edge. If Sofia hadn't lost her balance ...

His train of thought trailed off, cut short by a startling memory. He'd been standing in the center of the room about to perform his modified Morphos Mirrors spell when he froze with the familiar, but old feeling of performance anxiety. For the first time in years he feared he would fail, making a fool of himself in front of the whole kingdom, not to mention visiting gentry. But mostly he feared failing in front of her. And _him_. The insipid heir with his arm around her waist, whispering in her ear.

In his hesitation he spared a glance at Sofia and found her face tight with anxiety. She leaned back, placing her hand on the end of the napkin tray, pushing only enough to tip it over the edge and clatter to the floor.

She hadn't tripped, not until Sebastian tried to interfere as she attempted to pick up the dropped napkins.

She hadn't knocked the tray over on accident. She'd done it purposefully.

She'd created a diversion ... for him.

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Author's Note: So how's Cedric going to react to this information? Hee hee ... The next chapter is rated M for Mmmmmmm. Not a full lemon, but certainly citrus-y.

Reviews, please! I love them!


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: Lemonade anyone? Or maybe it's more limeade, either way it hits the spot.

This chapter was inspired by this song:

 _"_ _So come on  
I'll take you on, take you on -I  
ache for love, ache for us -Why  
don't you come  
Don't you come a little closer  
So come on now  
Strike the match, strike the match now  
We're a perfect match, perfect somehow  
We were meant for one another  
Come a little closer_

 _Flame you came to me  
Fire meet gasoline  
Fire meet gasoline  
I'm burning alive  
I can barely breathe  
When you're here loving me  
Fire meet gasoline  
Fire meet gasoline  
I got all I need  
When you came after me  
Fire meet gasoline  
I'm burning alive  
And I can barely breathe  
When you're here loving me  
Fire meet gasoline  
Burn with me tonight"_

 _Fire Meet Gasoline, Sia_

* * *

Intoxication: Chapter 16

Violet clucked like a wet hen while she stripped the princess of her ruined gown, stockings and slippers. Sofia's upswept hair remained relatively unscathed and the maid hurried to procure a decent replacement gown. Of course the ball gown now sitting in a sodden puddle had been made custom for the event and Violet worried over another choice.

"It's fine, really," Sofia soothed. She plucked an immaculate gown from a hanger. "This one will do."

"But you've already worn that one," Violet wrung her hands in unease.

The princess shook her head affectionately. Violet took responsibility for her charge's reputation in all things, most especially her appearance. Wearing the same ball gown twice was simply not done.

Sofia put the dress back, picking another she knew hadn't been worn previously. It wasn't hard as she had a closet full of them.

Violet collected a fresh pair of stocking and petticoats. In no time she had the birthday girl looking resplendent, not a hair out of place. She was just adjusting the princess' tiara when someone banged loudly on the door.

"My word," Violet exclaimed, shocked that anyone would accost the sanctity of the princess' quarters. Checking that Sofia was indeed decent, the maid hurried over when a second barrage sounded. "Just a minute," she fussed.

Sofia almost stopped her, having a pretty good idea who would have cause to seek her out in such a ... passionate mood. But what was she going to do? Hide in her room? And what exactly was she suddenly afraid of?

Violet cracked the door to peer around the edge, but it did her no good. Cedric placed the flat of his palm solidly against the door and pushed. Violet sputter in indignant shock as he entered without permission.

"It's all right, Violet," Sofia offered, knowing her assurance would do little to ease the unprecedented transgression of a man, especially a bachelor, in an unmarried lady's bedroom.

Sofia didn't know why, but it was clear that Cedric was incensed.

"Out," he barked at the maid, pointing to the open door for good measure.

Violet puffed up her chest, registering all five foot four inches of her height, prepared to go to battle for her princess' honor.

Cedric looked equally raring for a fight and Sofia feared that if Violet didn't relent, Cedric would remove her physically.

Sofia stepped between the two and addressed her longtime friend and maid. "I'm sure Mr. Cedric is here to make sure my injury is fully healed." She shot Cedric a warning look, daring him to contradict him at his own peril. He stared back, unfazed.

"If you wouldn't mind," Sofia gently ushered Violet towards the door. "I'm sure this won't take but a minute."

Violet looked uncertain, even as the door closed softly in her face. A maid did not allow men into her lady's chamber, but nor did they contradict their mistress' wishes. Overcome with anxiety, she consoled herself remembering what a mature and fair-minded Miss her charge was. Princess Sofia of Enchancia and scandal did not exist in the same context. Still she nibbled her fingernail as she waited, knowing she wouldn't be at ease until this debacle was over.

* * *

No sooner had she eased the door closed, did Cedric round on her. "What were you thinking?"

Sofia blinked at him in honest surprise. The last moment she saw him he'd been staring at her with barely contained fear and ... something else. Stronger than worry or concern, but she couldn't place it. But it certainly hadn't been anger.

She moved away from the door, instantly lowering her voice for fear they'd be discovered. "What are you talking about? I slipped and took a table of champagne with me. I didn't have much time to think."

"You know what I mean," he accused, backing her deeper into the room. That she'd tried to assist him should have calmed him, but instead it filled him with a dark and dangerous desire to effect her. To prove that she was no marble saint on a pedestal dolling out her benevolent will, but a flawed creature like himself.

Sofia wasn't afraid of him by any means, but she wondered if this was going to be another useless argument based on false accusations and jealousy. "I assure you I don't. You'll forgive me if I'm not adept at mind-reading."

"You did that on purpose," he hissed, his jaw clenching. "It wasn't an accident, at least until that idiot prince got in the way." He jabbed an accusing finger at her. "You knocked that tray over as a distraction. From me."

She crossed her arms defensively. She wasn't angry with him, just mad that he came in here railing at her. And apparently for offering her assistance. For some petty reason, she didn't want him to know he was right. Besides, turn about was fair play and he'd done the same the night he set Zandar's cousin on fire. Really, of the two of them she was the innocent party here. "I did no such thing. I bumped into the table and knocked a tray on the floor. Sebastian tried to help, but I tripped. End. Of. Story."

"Liar," he snorted with derision. A fierce possessiveness gripped him, filling him with primitive jealousy. "But, yes, let's not besmirch your precious _Sebastian_."

He said Sebastian's name the way one might politely say dog droppings.

"He's not my Seba-. Oh, you know what? I don't have to explain myself to you. I don't owe you anything," she huffed, the last part tasting just a bit like a lie.

"Don't owe me-" He laughed in a slightly unhinged way, and Sofia wondered if he'd finally cracked. But as quickly as he'd lapsed into dark comedy, he pulled himself back together, crowding her, his voice low and dangerous. "Oh, you owe me Princess. You're the one who threw yourself at me six months ago. I didn't ask for this. Any of it. I was perfectly content in my solitude."

 _Now who's lying_ , she thought, canting her head to look up at him where he loomed over her. She didn't flinch as his tirade continued. This had been a long time coming and part of her was relieved to get it out in the open. Eager for the racing in her blood, the thrill of his body close to hers.

"I never should have given in to you. My life has been nothing but the purest form of hell since then."

She baulked at him. "You're saying this is all my fault?"

"Yes!" He shouted, before remembering to lower his voice. "I blame you entirely."

She had shattered his fragile peace, awakening thoughts and desires trampled down and thought safely hidden. He could have ignored his attraction to her indefinitely, but not now. Now when he knew- He _knew_ -

"I didn't need to know," he continued on, his voice taking on a soft, desperate cadence, "what your skin feels like, what you taste like, what your voice sounds like as you-," He didn't deign to finish that last bit, but her cheeks stilled flamed . "And I really didn't need to know that -."

 _That I love you._ He cut himself off before blurting it out.

"I-," she wasn't sure what to say, completely thrown by his desperate confession. "I didn't know that you thought about it."

"Oh, I think about it, Princess." His voice had become hard and angry again. "I can barely sleep for thinking about it. And I have to stand by and watch you being pawed all over by some other man."

Sofia felt the blood drain her fingers, making them tingle, even as her face suffused with color. His eyes, and the way he was looking at her. It was like that night in May, like February, but more so. She took an unconscious step backwards, and felt the post of the bed at her back. She didn't wish to run away from him, but the support was welcome. Necessary even.

Over the weeks, even as she'd gone to visit nearly every day, she could feel a distance between them, and ever yawning chasm she couldn't seem to cross. To find out that he was putting it there on purpose, pushing her away because he ... what? She suspected, but she wanted to hear him say it.

"Why?" She asked, her voice breathless. "Why do you think about it?"

"What does it matter?" He hedged. "I supposed you haven't given it another moment's notice. Just sex and all, really no big deal."

My god, had she really said that? She had, she remembered. It stung to have her own careless words thrown back in her face. He made her sound so heartless.

Despite his cruel words she stared up at him with wide, guileless eyes. The wounded look in them made him want to gather her to his chest and kiss away the pain. He wanted to fall on his knees and beg forgiveness, for any scrape of attention she deigned to throw his way.

He wanted to do nothing of the sort.

Not much, anyway.

They seemed to have gone off on a dangerous course. Sofia could almost smell it, like ozone in the air, or the faint crackle of faded magic. She wanted to press him for answers, but her unflappable courage seemed to have failed her in this moment.

"You're right," she said, taking him completely by surprise. She grasped at the threads of their original conversation, trying to sound straightforward and unaffected. "I did do it on purpose. In the ballroom, I saw you falter, knew what was about to happen, so I decided to intervene."

Embarrassment brightened his face. So she thought him some witless, bumbling conjurer in need of rescue, did she? The fact that she was right stung deeply. He stepped towards her, his voice low and harsh, "I don't need you _intervening_ on my behalf. I think I can handle doing my job. Besides, I wouldn't presume to inconvenience you."

His words were polite, but his tone was nearly insulting. Her voice rose in pitch. "I was trying to help."

"Why?" He demanded.

"Because-," she faltered for an appropriate answer. "Because, you're my friend."

There was that word again. Cedric's tenuous control snapped.

"I have news for you, Princess," he growled, "I don't want to be your fucking friend."

Sofia didn't have time to contemplate his lapse into the profane before he surge forward, cupping the back of her skull in his hand, driving his mouth onto her own. She whimpered, more in relief than anything else. His mouth, slanting over hers and driving her back against the bed post, felt like balm for an open wound. She didn't hesitate, but parted her lips, needing more. His obliging tongue dipped into her mouth, a groan rumbling inside his chest. Angled against the support of the bed, she surged up onto her tip toes, grasping handfuls of his velvet robes to hold him to her and herself steady.

Cedric was unprepared for her immediate and needy acceptance of his bold actions. With what little reasoning he still possessed, he expected an offended shriek, perhaps a slap for accosting her. At the very least he thought she would shove him away, admonishing him with her assertions of friendship on her part and nothing more.

Her enthusiasm opened some lingering vestige of sense, and he realized this was madness. That she returned his affection, that she desired him, changed nothing. It felt good so good to submit to the growing, needy desire smoldering inside, too good, and he tried valiantly to regain control, attempting to pull away.

Her eyes filled with something akin to panic when she realized what he was doing. "Stay," she whimpered, following his retreating lips with her own.

Sofia trembled. Intoxicated by a kiss, she was subtly shocked to realize she could be had for so little. All the months of trials and tribulations, walking a narrow tightrope between propriety, duty, and her own heart, all of it was obliterated in an instant. All her denials were stripped bare, leaving the truth of her desire exposed.

God, she wanted ...

This. She wanted this. All of this. All of him.

Her silken tongue plundered his mouth, tasting every contour, and it opened a flood gate, one that had been damaged and leaking since February. He'd tried to seal up his feelings, but they had never been truly locked away. He caressed her face, her neck, her arms, anyplace her could reach. She murmured her approval, making needy sounds, spurring him onward. His hands pressed on, as if afraid any hesitation would snatch her away back into the cold, lonely void. His palm ghosted over her curves, hidden by layers of fine fabrics. Satin bunched in his fingers as he gathered yards of skirt and petticoats, slipping beyond their boarders to find the finer satin of her skin.

His fingers brushed her bare thigh and Sofia's heart rocketed into an uneven beat. The knowledge of what he wanted to do to her ricocheted through her mind, imbuing her with conflicting senses of nervous fear and delicious power.

"Yes," she murmured, unaware if she'd spoken out loud or only demanded he continue in her own thoughts.

He molded his hand to the damp silk of her drawers, rubbing her through the material. She bit her lip and it made him want to return the gesture. He did just that, sucking her lower lip between his before gently biting down with his teeth. Sofia groaned deep in the back of her throat and the sound reverberated in his chest.

Abandoning all caution, he slide past the edge of her garments to touch bare flesh. His fingers stroked her wet lips, teasing the hooded nub hidden in her folds. When she moaned, he pressed his mouth to her ear, "Shhhh, your damned maid is probably standing outside the door."

A shiver ran through her at the smoky timber of his voice. Sofia recognized dimly that he was probably correct. Violet was almost assuredly anxiously awaiting her charge, wringing her hands at the impropriety of a bachelor in the princess' room. And she fears were appropriate, as Sofia rocked against Cedric's questing fingers, striving to mute her cries. She wondered dizzily how much time they had.

He toyed with her clit, circling the slick pearl before flickering his fingertips over it. She buried her face against his robes, using their thick velvet to muffle her sounds. His touch consumed her, leaving her clinging to him, his robe bunched between her grasping hands. She held onto him as much in desperation as for support. Her legs wobbled and she would surely fall without him.

She rolled her hips in a wordless plea. He crooked his finger, delving deep inside, while capturing her hoarse cry with his mouth. Pleasure ribboned through her in dark threads, cascading in ever increasing waves. His mouth savaged her own, taking deep possession while his fingers did the same below. She tried to return his kisses with equal fervor, quaking with the knowledge that there wasn't any liberties she wouldn't allow him to take. Rather desperately she wanted to lead him to her bed, sinking down into a dark abyss of pleasure until neither of them could walk or even think.

She silently cursed the maid outside the door, the scores of waiting guests, but most of all this damned dress that rendered the feel of his body pressed against hers a mute imitation of his bare skin. Her hands abandoned his robe in favor of his hair, sliding up to grasp the short length at the back of his neck.

Cedric drove into her, relentlessly taking her with his hand as he wanted to with his body. Prince Sebastian might have the pleasure of parading her around like his private jewel for the fawning gentry, but Cedric would have to do with making her scream. Jealousy swirled inside him, mingled with dark conceit. That fair-haired, tan skinned whelp had never made her come. Only Cedric had had her in such a way. In this moment she was his, all others be damned.

Her thighs tightened around his wrist, and she quivered like a taught bow string. He pressed his palm up, molding his whole hand against her warmth, igniting her in baptizing fire. Her hips rocked, wringing every drop of pleasure from his touch. Even his lips slanted over hers couldn't quite smother her broken cry.

Sense cautioned that they might have been heard, but he continued to touch her, gently now, coaxing pleasure where before he'd demanded it. She kissed him softly between panting breaths, her lips trembling.

He brought her to second sweet, but no less fierce climax before he was able to disentangle his hand from between her legs. She snuggled against him, fitting her head under his chin. He cradled her against his chest, righting her undergarments with a shaking hand.

They panted in the darkness. He was just as thrown as she by what had just transpired. He'd been incensed when he discovered her duplicity at the ball, unwittingly putting herself in harm's way to aid him. He intended to confront her, to illicit a confession, but he hadn't planned on this. A bitter, galling feeling poured through him and he realized it was guilt.

He hadn't sought to humble her, to make her submit to his touch, only to give life and breath to the myriad of emotions he couldn't name and could never confess. So much had been trapped inside him, so much he couldn't say. He wanted someone to understand, wanted her to understand, but this wasn't the way he intended to go about it.

She murmured nonsensical sounds of contentment and his spirits plummeted when they should be soaring. She wasn't his. And all too soon she'd have to leave. To go back to the ball and her guests.

The realization hit him like a cold shock of buffeting wind: she had to go back to _him_.

He wasn't sure which emotion reined: jealousy or despair. Curiously the thought that struck him was how in a few stolen moments he'd managed turned his pure, pristine princess into something akin to a sullied harlot. She was being courted by another man. Though not publicly declared, she was dating him, this prince. Cedric might be unperturbed, even darkly thrilled by the subversiveness, but Sofia, once she regained her senses, would be deeply dismayed.

"You have to get back to your guests." His quiet voice struck discordant note in the hushed silence.

"Guests?" She sounded drowsy and content, hardly aware of what she said.

"Yes," he hated to be the one to remind her and bitterness laced his voice. "And Sebastian."

Sofia pulled away abruptly, suddenly aware. "Oh!"

He wasn't entirely sure what she was feeling and could only guess if her pained look of distress was because of him or on his behalf. She stared at him with wide doe-eyes, frightened and unsure.

"It's alright," he murmured, although it wasn't at all.

"My lady?"

Violet's hesitant voice through the door brought them both abruptly back to reality.

"My lady," the maid repeated, knocking lightly. "Your guest are waiting. We really must be getting you back."

Sofia hands convulsed where they still lay against his chest. She anxiously eyed the door for signs that Violet might enter. "Y-yes," she called, her voice a little shaky. "I'll be r-right there."

She hazarded a tentative glance up at Cedric, unsure what this all meant.

He wasn't looking at her, and she could almost see the dark thoughts swirling inside his head. He was withdrawing again, like the last time, going where she couldn't follow.

"Hey," she tugged on his lapel to get his attention.

His head turned down, focusing on her, and that look made her shiver. His eyes were orbs of fire, dark as black coffee, but alight from within. She could see that his desire for her was not one split-hair's worth mollified and he was fighting it. She wished he could give in. That they could both give in. That it was within her power to simply order Violet away and stay locked inside this room with him all night. Possibly all the next day as well. Perhaps longer.

But it wasn't. There were people waiting. Expectations to meet.

"Hey," she said again, making his eyes focus. "We have to go."

Her voice trembled a little. He wondered why she didn't move away until he realized his hand was still buried under her skirt, stroking her hip through her satin drawers.

He pulled away abruptly, and, dear god, was he blushing? Yes.

Violet knocked, harder this time. "Princess?"

"I'm coming."

A mirthless chuckle clogged his throat, sounding more like a pained whimper. She probably didn't even know that phrase had another meaning. She was so innocent that at times it made him want to weep.

Sofia stopped halfway towards the door before turning back, looking torn. "We have to go," she said, again.

"I know." His head hung down, his bangs shielding his eyes from her.

She rushed back, kissing him very suddenly. It was a light brush of lip, swift and sweet and over far too soon. Her large blue eyes stared up at him for a moment, shining like polished sapphires, before she turned to hurry away.

It was that last kiss that got him. It wasn't born out of need or desire, but a tender emotion that he didn't dare hope she felt.

And she was being courted by another man.

In a moment of selfish lust Cedric had turned Princess Sofia of Enchancia, the purest soul he'd ever known, into a two-timing wanton.

She was a flawed creature indeed. And it was all his fault.

* * *

Author's Note: So, yeah, originally I only planned to have them kiss. Ooops. I figured I'd worked Cedric up into enough of a frenzy to make it plausible for him to take things farther.

I cut this chapter off a little short to get it out to you guys. Next time we'll see more about the fall out of this little liaison.

And unfortunately that is the last chapter in my cache of pre-written chapters. I've never written a story this long before and didn't know my own writing style. Apparently I work on a group of about 3 to 4 chapters at a time, writing them simultaneously. Sorry to leave on such a cliffhanger but I can't say for certain when the next update will be.

Review, review, review. Please! I love, love, love you all! :)


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note: Okay, so I toyed around quite a bit with where I wanted to go from here. I tried out several alternate storylines because I stared to second guessing my original plan. I'm glad I took the time, even though I ended up going with my first instincts, because I feel much more confident about it.

So glad you all enjoyed the last chapter. You can thank Cedfia123 for giving me a little kick of energy to keep going. :)

Side note: I forgot to mention last time, Cedric's "I don't want to be your fucking friend" line, which I love, was inspired by listening to Lady Gaga's Bad Romance. Just a little trivia for you.

"I want your love

And I want your revenge

I want your love

I don't wanna be friends"

-Bad Romance, Lady Gaga

* * *

Intoxication: Chapter 17

Somehow she managed to make her way back to the ballroom on shaky legs. Residual warmth pooled between her thighs and she lamented that she couldn't linger over the sensation and how it came to be there.

Cedric wanted her.

He cared for her.

He couldn't sleep thinking about her.

She had suspected. She had hoped. But now she _knew_.

The knowledge suffused her with a giddy excitement that had little relationship with reality. At the moment she stubbornly refused to think on all the reasons why such information shouldn't fill her to bursting with joy.

The fantasy couldn't last long, though.

"You look a little shaken, Dear," Aunt Tilly approached, looping her arm with Sofia's. "I hope you weren't hurt too badly."

Sofia tittered nervously, feeling a little unbalanced. The riotous whirl of emotions that had passed through her in the last hour felt like they were finally catching up.

"Let me see your hand." Tilly cupped Sofia's hand in her own, studying the flawless skin with a critical eye. "Hmm," she assessed, "Your Cedric does good work."

Sofia flushed. _Her Cedric._

"Indeed," she murmured, hardly trusting her voice.

Aunt Tilly, turned her attention to the crowd, a sly smile on her lips that made Sofia's blush deepen. For a wild moment she suspected that her aunt knew something untoward had transpired between the royal sorcerer and herself. She wondered how Cedric had looked storming out of the ballroom before he came to her room.

Sofia's eyes darted around the room, wondering if she was somehow advertising that she'd just been very nearly tousled only a few hallways over while a room full of guests casually awaited her return.

When her mother touched her shoulder, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Sorry, Honey," Miranda soothed, "I didn't mean to startle you. Are you sure you're feeling up to continuing? You don't have to."

Sofia flashed a nervous smile, hoping to appear normal. "I'm fine, really."

Her mother gazed at her a moment longer and Sofia turned her eyes away, feeling guilty. When she dared to look up again, she caught the tail end of a meaningful glance shared between her mother and her aunt. Curiosity piqued, she looked between the two women, but the moment had passed too quickly for her to suppose what it meant.

"Sebastian was very worried about you," her mother said, her voice curiously even.

"Oh," Sofia blinked, unsure what else to say. Yes. Right. Sebastian. "I should probably find him. Let him know I'm all right."

She made no move to do so, chewing her bottom lip.

"I think he went out on the balcony to get some fresh air," Tilly tilted her head, regarding her niece carefully.

Again, Sofia felt like there was something going on that she didn't understand. Why were her mother and her aunt trying to foist Sebastian upon her?

She opened her mouth to form an answer, but was distracted when a dark figure slipped into the ballroom. Cedric was always unmistakable against the golden glow of the room, the bright colors of the gentry. She hoped to catch his eye, but he strode purposefully past, keeping his gaze diverted from her. A fissure of disappointment pierced her, before she realized that it was probably better they not appear too obvious. And she wasn't sure that she could keep the raw, open longing from her face if he looked at her. Hiding her true feeling was not a skill she was adept at.

Cedric conversed shortly with her father and for a ridiculous moment her heart leapt into her throat.

Roland turned to the crowd in general, his voice booming out to carry over the general din of the collective. "Ladies and gentlemen," he paused as the murmur of conversation died away, all eyes turning to the king. "Let's try this again, shall we? Perhaps with a little less drama this time."

A titter of laughter rippled through the crowd and Sofia felt her cheeks grow hot. Her father wasn't mocking her, she knew, but his casual humor made her feel small.

She watched as Cedric conducted his modified Morphos spell. His face held no hint of the passionate man who had crushed his mouth against her own. If anything he appeared to be without expression. There was no nervous glow to his eyes like his first attempt, nor did he appear pleased when he performed the spell to flawless effect, summoning not just an array of mirrors, but transforming the entire ballroom into a kaleidoscope of mirrors. Each panel, including the ceiling, reflected the entire party in a different theme of illusions.

Her guests Ohhhed and Ahhhed, turning every which way to regard themselves and the party at large in a variety of exotic attire. It was a magnificent trick, but Sofia felt uncharacteristically cynical. The people gathered here were some of the most powerful leaders of the realms, and they were so easily entertained by illusions. Reality meant so little, and image was everything.

Sofia glanced around at the walls, the ceiling, quietly thankful that they only reflected the illusion of truth. She wasn't sure what she would see if they reflected how she really felt.

When she dropped her eyes, she saw Sebastian enter from the open balcony doors. His eyes searched the crowd until he found her. She watched his posture slack in relief. Watched his green eyes go soft as the worried drained away.

Her gaze flickered to Cedric as he lowered his wand. He was still devoid of emotion, like an empty vessel. Or perhaps a spilled cup, one that had been full but whose contents toppled over. She felt rather the same way remembering how his hands had touched her. How his fingers had danced over her flesh, filling the void inside her body. The rough rhythm of his touch had suffused her with pleasure until she had burst into a thousand shuttering pieces. Twice.

Perhaps she'd come back together wrong, the pieces no longer fitting as they once did. Her eyes shifted between the two men who cared for her, and she didn't know what to do. She _should_ go to Sebastian, smile prettily and assure him that she was unharmed by the events that transpired. She should lie to him, and by extension everyone here with their continued courtship.

She _could_ go to Cedric. It wouldn't be inappropriate for her to speak to him after such a performance. No one would think anything of her publically engaging the royal sorcerer in conversation. And if she didn't speak to him, would that draw even more attention? The whole situation seemed suddenly fraught with unintended innuendo.

She had already taken a step in his direction when Cedric looked her way. His dark eyes pierced her. His face might be devoid of emotion, but his stormy gaze told a different story. Her breath caught, hitching into an uneven rhythm. His head moved in a minute gesture, but one she understood. No, he'd said with the slightest shake of his head, and her feet stilled before they'd begun to move.

He didn't want to her come to him and she felt another stab of disappointment. She watched in gruesome fascination as he turned away from her and stalked out of the room. His portion of the night completed, no one would miss his presence and she knew he wouldn't be back.

 _He can't stand it_ , she realized. She could have gone to him, made painful, but appropriate small talk while surrounded by her friends and family. They could put on a show and pretend no inappropriate feelings existed between them. But the pretense wasn't the worst of it. Sebastian was already making his way towards her where she stood in a frozen trance between her mother and aunt.

The tumbling whirlpool of her thoughts made it feel like hours, but only moments had passed since Cedric's spell. She'd been standing in numb shock for a little less than a minute while so many notions passed through her confused mind. Miranda and Tilly spoke around her, seeming to know she needed a moment to collect herself.

Even if Cedric had stayed. Even if she'd gone over to speak to him, Sebastian would have come to her, as was expected of him, even if it wasn't his true desire to be by her side, and Cedric couldn't stand it. She cringed to think on the painfully awkward conversation that included the three of them.

Sebastian bowed politely to the queen and the duchess, addressing them each before turning his soft gaze on her. "Sofia," he breathed in his lilting accent, "I must apologize for earlier. I only thought to help and I ... I made a mess of everything. Please accept my apology. To you as well, your majesty, for putting a blight on such a lovely evening."

Sofia registered his words. His green eyes shown with such earnest self-reproach Sofia had to fight down a stab of conscious. He blamed himself for the whole affair. She'd nearly forgotten his part in her accident, unintentionally setting her off balance. She felt like all that had happened a hundred years ago. A lifetime before.

Queen Miranda tilted her head in gracious acceptance. "Think nothing of it Prince Sebastian. It was an accident and thank goodness no one was seriously injured."

His tan face went pale, perhaps remembering Sofia's bleeding palm. "Are you all right?" He asked her, his eyes shining with sincerity.

Sofia stuttered into speaking, years of social training grinding to the front of her mind. "Yes," she attempted a smile, hoping she didn't appear too ghastly. "I'm all healed," she waved her hand, not wanting to give it to him to examine the way Tilly had.

"Thank goodness Enchancia's sorcerer was there."

Sofia felt her smile dim, dropping at the corners.

"Royamune's royal sorceress is very adept, but I don't believe even she could have healed such a deep wound so efficiently. I must remember to thank him personally. What did you say his name was?"

Sofia hoped one of the older women would answer, but when neither did, there was an awkward beat of silence. "C-, um, Cedric," she licked her dry lips. "M-Mister Cedric."

Sebastian glanced around the room before offering her his arm. "I don't see him. Would you care to join me on my search?"

His cheeky smile was reminiscent of the playful man who she accompanied to the flying derby races. If Sofia didn't know that Cedric had already left, she might have been tempted to fall back onto the oldest of female tricks and pretend to faint just to avoid such an unpleasant suggestion. There was nothing she'd rather do less than approach Cedric while linked on Sebastian's arm as the prince offered his gracious platitudes. Sofia wasn't sure if a room full of witnesses would be enough to deter the sorcerer from setting this one on fire.

Darkly humored by the thought, she felt some of the life coming back into her limbs. "I think he may have left," her voice sounded sure and confident again. "He doesn't much care for these parties. But if you would be so kind as to fetch me a glass of water, I'm feeling a little perched after my ordeal."

Sebastian jumped to attention like an eager puppy. "Of course, Princess."

As the prince hurried away, Miranda favored her daughter with a slanted glance. "Your ordeal?"

Sofia ducked her head, knowing that she was laying it on a little thick. Her request wasn't unreasonable, just usually reserved for the likes of Amber or Hildegarde. "What?" She feigned ignorance. "I am parched."

She could swear her mother looked amused, while Tilly smiled out right.

* * *

Cedric stalked his way down the hall towards the solitude of his tower.

He'd had to escape the stifling confines of the ballroom. When he saw Sofia, watched her step towards him with open longing, he felt like the air was being strangled from his lungs. After performing her birthday spell he didn't hear the appreciative murmurs of the crowd, didn't bask in the accolades. It didn't matter. Their approval didn't matter to him anymore. There was a time when he would have sold his soul for this level of recognition and praise. Now it fell on his deaf ears, sliding away without concern or notice.

The same people that cooed over his party tricks would scorn him if they knew the affection he harbored for one of their own; their condescending acknowledgements would turn to disapproving scorn. For a long, dark moment he hated them all.

He cursed his foolish behavior. He'd behaved like the basest wanton, fondling the most beloved princess in the realm like a common tart.

He snorted in derision. "Your maid's outside the door, indeed," he muttered in self reproach.

A headache began to wind its way between his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose to hold it at bay. How could he have been so stupid? Six long months, tentatively rebuilding the delicate strands of their friendship, and he'd carelessly destroyed it all in a moment of selfish pleasure. Now they were right back where they started.

No, they were worse off than before because he'd essentially confessed that he was obsessed, thinking about her every minute of the day. Merlin's Mushrooms, had he really told her that he couldn't sleep for thinking about bedding her?

Zeus' xylophones-

Forget the trite sayings, his mind growled, he was _fucked_.

Nevermind that she'd never turn him in, and he needn't fear repercussion from the king, now Sofia _knew_. Knew that in his depraved, black heart he lusted for her. At least he'd managed to keep from confessing his love for her, like the fool he was. He didn't wish to contemplate the pain of her polite but firm denial to his pathetic declaration.

But, the way she'd reacted when he kissed her, it awakened a dangerous feeling inside him: Hope. He remembered the feeling from that day in February. When she lay naked and drowsing in his arms, he'd felt the same, treacherous feeling. Insane, insensible hope that somehow, _somehow_ they could figure it out. Hope that some way she could be his all the time.

Hope was a lying bitch.

Of that much he was certain. But it was also a seductive feeling. It filled him with a sense of capricious whimsy that lightened his heart for the first time in months and begged the question: Was it really so impossible to believe - to hope - that they could have a future together?

He shut the door to his workshop harder than necessary, ignoring Belladonna's indignant squawking. He was so tired of this twisting spiral of emotions; like a magic carousel that kept spinning without end. He wanted off the ride.

But it wasn't over yet, he knew. She'd be back all too soon. Sofia didn't know how to back away from a challenge, and he'd effectively issued one that she couldn't ignore.

He didn't know that she would come tonight. Perhaps it would be tomorrow, or even the day after, but eventually she could seek him out, and when she did he needed to know exactly what to say.

* * *

The rest of the evening passed by in sluggish indolence. She felt flushed and frustrated, barely listening to the trite talk around her. Several friends and acquaintances inquired about her after the dreadful scene that had taken place earlier. She demurred, giving bland, vague assurances.

Sebastian hovered by her side, but she flinched every time he laid a comforting hand on her back. Chastised by self-abatement, he resumed his close vigil, hands folded together at his hack as if it were only natural that she would be so nervous around him after the even she'd had.

Try as she might to focus, her mind wandered frequently back to the stolen moments in her room. While Sebastian was regaling Vivian and Clio with a vivid description of Royaume's scenic coastal cliffs, a place Sofia had heard of and often wished to visit, she stood by without hearing a single word. Instead of seeing the sharp vista of granite cliffs, veined with lavender quartz, or hearing the roar of timeless waves beating against their base, she was lost in her own vivid imaginings. Her hands clenched around a glass as a shiver raced down her spine, feeling the ghostly echo of warm lips against hers, long fingers stoking her body into a rising inferno.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head minutely to disengage the memory. Sebastian eyed her curiously and she took a gulp of water to cover her bizarre behavior.

She held out as long as she could, knowing these parties often ran well into the early hours of the morning, but a little after midnight she couldn't stand it any longer. She addressed her guests, a customary sign that the ball was coming to a close. She thanked them all for their consideration, playing up her rattled nerves as explanation for an evening cut short. She still had to stand in attendance, offering a painstaking goodbye to each and every member of the party as they departed. It was past two in the morning before Violet, smothering a yawn behind her hand, unlaced her gown and stays.

Sofia tried not to appear frustrated as the maid lingered, helping her change into a light summer night gown.

"Is there anything else you require, My Lady?"

"No," Sofia all but yelled, before she softened. "No, thank you, Violet. Get to bed and get some rest, that is all I require of you."

The older woman smiled at her mistress, before heading off to her own quarters. Sofia listened to her retreating footsteps with frayed nerves. When the sound faded away, she stood in the center of her room chewing her lip in indecision.

There was no way she could go to sleep. Nervous energy zinged down her spine.

She wanted ...

But she shouldn't ...

Her fingers twisted together. When her roaming eyes fell on her bed, she bite her lip almost hard enough to draw blood. She stared at the bed post, the one she'd been pressed up against. Alone with no one to see, her eyes widened in guileless curiosity.

Her tongue swept out to whet her dry lips, remembering the silken feel of his mouth. It hadn't felt at all like the previous time. She had little basis for comparison, so it hadn't occurred to her how different she would feel without the cloying effects of the infatuation potion. With the potion her senses had been heightened, creating an exaggerated, artificial feel to everything. Tonight, everything had felt earthier; so much more authentic and substantive.

And if kissing him had felt so much better without the potion ...

She pressed her eyes closed, trembling from the memory, she thought about his urgent hands, grasping handfuls of silk and lace, pressing against her damp drawers, working her into a frenzy.

 _"Stay."_

She'd begged him when he tried to pull away.

Her eyes opened, still trained on the bed post.

She wanted ...

Him.

All of him.

All of _them_.

Surely she could wait until tomorrow to see him. But ...

There was an urgency inside her. It needed to be tonight. She had to go tonight or she'd lose her nerve entirely.

Her hands shook as she hurried, pulling an uncomplicated dress over her shift. Even in her haste she didn't wish to be caught out of bed, roaming the halls in her nightgown.

A thousand fractured thoughts ran rampant through her mind:

What if he didn't answer the door?

What if he was already asleep?

What if he did answer?

What if he said no?

Oh god, what if he said yes?

She could taste her pulse in the back of her throat. She slipped into the hallway, listening in frozen anticipation. Stretched so taunt, the tiniest noise could shatter her fragile bravado and send her running back to the security of her room.

Silence echoed through the halls. When she finally coaxed her feet to move, the hushed whisper of her satin slippers sounded like the trampling of a herd of drunk elephants to her sensitive ears. Not every servant was in bed, she knew. Many would still be up, but occupied with cleaning up the ballroom which lay in the opposite direction to her destination.

She rounded the curved staircase to his door, tripping over the second stair and cursing her strained nerves. The dark portal of his doorway loomed before her ominously. Light shown from under the crack, offering an incongruities welcome. Here the light of the hall sconces didn't reach and she paused in the shadows, breathing shallow and fast. Her heart felt like it was trying to bludgeon its way out of her chest.

She turned away, got to the top of the stairs, thought better and turned back. Her fingers felt cold and bloodless when she finally raised her heavy hand and knocked.

* * *

Author's Note: Yeah, sorry about that but it was the natural place to break off this chapter. Next one will be out soon. This chapter was a little shorter than usual, but the next one is longer, so it all evens out.

If it seems like Sofia is somewhat callously disregarding the fact that she basically just cheated on Sebastian, don't worry, that's on purpose. She's a little overwhelmed, a little preoccupied with her hormones right now.

So can I just post my 6-page summary of every chapter from now until the end? No, you mean I have to write out the whole story? Oh damn. I wish I was a faster writer for you guys. Some days the words just flow with very little assistance from my brain, but most days it's like trudging uphill through wet concrete. I'm trying my best. Rest assured that no matter what I will not abandon this fic. It will be finished. It just might take a while.

Reviews, please! Your reviews matter a great deal to me and I cherish each and every one!


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: Happy Mother's Day!

Get tied on, this is a long one. I hope this chapter makes sense. It's one of those scenes I've had in my head so long that it's hard to know if it flows as well as I think it does, or if I just hope that it does.

* * *

Intoxication: Chapter 18

"It's open," the soft timber of his voice called at once, as if he were expecting her.

When she came inside, the sight of him touched a chord of fondness inside her chest. He was standing, leaning back against his workbench. His formal robes, his gloves and even his tie were gone, leaving him endearingly unadorned in a pair of black slacks, olive green shirt and crimson vest. The little V of exposed skin at his neck beckoned her to reach out and stroke it with her fingers and then her lips.

His bangs tilted down over his eyes and she wanted to brush them back. She always loved his hair, the silky sweep if it across his forehead, the contrasting colors.

Her courage flagged in the face of his silence. If he didn't say something, soon, she feared her heart would beat its way out of her chest. How had she managed this the first time? The easy, seductive sway of the intoxication potion mocked her high strung nerves. She couldn't imagine screwing up the courage to kiss him without provocation, and rubbing against him in a way that would shame any feline. Why was it so hard to replicate something she'd already done?

Her eyes roamed the room restlessly. The workbench behind him was littered with papers. An uncapped pot of ink still held an upright quill. She wondered distantly what he could be writing about at this hour. She tore her eyes away, knowing that she was only trying to distract herself from the matter at hand.

While she hesitated, Cedric tilted his head up, his dark eyes causing her thoughts to scatter.

 _Oh god_ , she thought wildly, _don't ask me what I'm doing here. I don't think I can say it_.

She wished he would make this easy for her. Wished he would come straight over, take her in his arms and kiss her like he had in her bedroom. The nape of her neck tingled, remembering his rough, possessive grip before his mouth came down on hers.

She licked her lips, remembering his tongue sweeping into her mouth. His eyes traced the gesture before he swallowed deeply.

"I-I feel I should apologize for my behavior earlier."

She blinked at him. That wasn't what she had been expecting. For the first time she really looked at him, standing rigid despite his easy pose. His hands gripped the edge of the bench and he trembled ever so slightly.

"What I did was uncalled for, and I -"

"Please don't."

His eyes widened, mouth still open as the words died on the air.

She hadn't known she was going to speak until she already had, but she couldn't, just couldn't listen to him apologize for touching her. Most especially when she longed for him to do so again. She furrowed her brow, searching for the right words. "I'm not upset with you, if that's what you think."

"No," he said softly, "I know you aren't."

"You know?" She felt like they were having two separate conversations, but she couldn't see how or why.

"Yes, and that's sort of the problem."

"Are you saying this is all my fault again?" She attempted a weak laugh, but he didn't seem to find the humor in it.

"None of this is your fault, Sofia. It's mine. All mine, and I cannot apologize enough."

Her confusion deepened. "You're not thinking you've taken advantage of me again, are you? Because I had thought we'd cleared that up the first time."

"Sofia," he sighed, his chin dropping to his chest. "You are a princess of Enchancia, and-"

"You don't need to tell me who I am, Cedric, I'm quite aware," she huffed, feeling the conversation wasn't going at all how she'd planned. Well, not planned, there was no plan, but she'd _assumed_ ...

He continued on without pause, as if she hadn't interrupted. "And you are being courted by a prince from a neighboring kingdom."

She crossed her arms, feeling judged, though his tone offered nothing more than the simple truth. "So?"

His head shot up, a look of incredulous disbelief on his face. "So," he barked, "You have a suitor. A proper one, who wants to marry you, I'm sure. You can't be caught dallying with the help."

Dallying with the help? Is that what he thought she was doing? And absurd flare of anger warmed her. What kind of person did he take her for? But, even so, her anger mixed with embarrassment. Apparently he did understand why she'd come. But rather than sweeping her into his arms, like she expected, he was cataloguing her misdeeds in sharp clarity. She felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with modesty.

She wasn't sure which accusation to defend against first. "Sebastian is ... kind. But we're not ...," What did she intend to say? Official? Exclusive?

Cedric watched her struggle to find the words to express her relationship with the other man. She seemed largely unconcerned about Sebastian's feelings in the matter and he felt a outlandish sympathy for the Royaume royal. After he'd performed his spell, Cedric had seen the younger man's face when he entered the room, searching restlessly until his troubled gaze found the object of his concern. Sebastian Rousseau was obviously and hopelessly in love with Sofia. Cedric knew because the prince's wretched expression of worry echoed his own feelings.

He hated the prince. Hated, and pitied, and envied him all at the same time. But he couldn't deny that the other man held genuine affection for her. Coupled with the fact that the man had everything to offer, and the choice was clear.

Cedric had nothing to offer her but disgrace and ruin. He'd not only compromised her body, but her future as well.

The bitter truth made him lash out with spiteful anger."Kind, hm? Do you think his generous nature would extend to forgiving the notion that you've been fondled like a whore by one of the servants?"

She took a step back, as if he'd struck her. Wide sapphire eyes dominated her face as she stared at him in scandalized shock. His coarse words agitated her gentle demeanor. Beloved and coddled her entire life, no one had ever dared speak to her in such a way, and she was unprepared to comprehend such an accusation.

She voice trembled, hinting at her maligned pride, "Is that what you think you've done to me? Treated me like a-," she stuttered over the word, her cheeks flaming even as she said it, "A whore?"

His eyes pierced her straight through. "Haven't I?"

Anger, seductive and warming, flared bright in her chest. It was easy to fall into its trap, but she paused, eyeing him carefully. Self-reproach, not anger, darkened his eyes. Gathering all her pluck and courage, she approached him slowly. One hand slipped over his heart, feeling its erratic beat, while the other brushed a stray lock of hair from his brow with trembling fingers. Her direct gaze never left his as she whispered, "No."

He stood very still, the only movement his shallow breathing and the rapid thump under her palm. Her heart was galloping at a pace to match his own. That he was as nervous as she gave her strength. Very carefully she tilted up onto her toes, watching his reaction right up until the moment she pressed her lips to his.

Like their very first kiss, he hesitated until she slipped her hand up from his chest to curl around the nape of his neck, tugging softly in encouragement. He moved then, like a marble statue come to life. His arms wrapped around her, crushing her against him. One of his hands cupped the back of her head as he tilted her back, submitting completely to the sweet temptation of her mouth. He kissed her like the world was ending. Like it was his last chance to do so.

When he finally released her, gently pushing her away, she felt a rush of cold dread.

"Nothing has changed, Sofia."

"What?" She blinked, feeling rather stupid at the moment. She heard his words but couldn't seem to comprehend their meaning. "But we ... I..."

She struggled to put words to the confusing mesh of feelings inside. They rose up, swelling and ebbing in a maelstrom of emotion. She wanted him, but there was more to it. The thought of his rejection threatened to send her spiraling into a chasm of despair.

She peered up into his face, an expression of innocent confusion on hers.

Cedric clenched his hands together behind his back to keep from reaching out to stroke her cheek. Of all the lessons he'd taught her, this was going to be the hardest by far.

He took a fortifying breath. "Sofia, you are royalty and I ... I am one of your servants."

 _One of my servants_ , her mind turned over his words, finding them strange. She never thought of him as a servant. She still felt sluggish. "What are you saying?"

He sighed, his shoulders dropping. "I'm saying that as long as you are the princess of Enchancia and I am it's royal sorcerer, nothing can ... nothing more **will** happen between us. It cannot."

She continued to blink at him in owlish bewilderment.

"I'm saying no, Sofia." _Like I should have the first time_ , he mentally added.

She stood in the center of the room looking very small and lost at that moment. Her hands hung limp at her sides and all the vivacious energy that made up all that was Sofia seemed to leach away. Her unfocused eyes searched the floor as she took in his meaning, but fought, always fought, to find a way. Her whole life she'd solved other people's problems, telling them to never give up. There was always a way. There had to be, because ...

A feeling rose up inside her, familiar but foreign in its intensity. It was similar to what she felt for her parents, her siblings, her friends, but at the moment what she felt for Cedric didn't compare by the sheer, unrelenting force of it. But, he was rejecting her, and pain followed swiftly on the heels of the unnamed feeling.

Still, she was struck by the way he had touched her, the ferocity with which he'd kissed her.

 _"I don't want to be your fucking friend."_

"But ," she said slowly, trying to make sense of his shifting demeanor, "what about what you want? What do you want, Cedric?"

The look on her face was so heartrendingly open and honest that it stole his breath away, and he found that as damning as a confession might be, he couldn't lie to her. Not now. "I want you."

She was swept up in the moment, throwing caution away. She took a step towards him. "You can have me." The breathless cadence of her voice was foreign to her ears and she wondered who was this wanton that begged for him. "I'm right here."

The temptation was damning, but he'd already resolved himself against her. Though his hands encircled her shoulders and he pressed his forehead against hers, he wasn't giving in. "I want all of you," he murmured, wrapping them in a quiet, private world that was all their own. "Believe me, there is a very large part of me that is screaming what an idiot I am for denying you."

"Then why are you?" She whispered, tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

"Because," he found himself uttering more of the truth than he'd intended. if this was the end, there no longer seemed to be any point in lying."I don't want you for just one night. I want every night with you. Every day. And that is something I can never have."

This time she allowed herself to be eased back and away. She let his hands drop away without protest. For a moment she recalled the afternoon when the strength of the infatuation potion let her recognize his weakness, his desire, that she could have him if she just broke him down. She realized with a vague, distant wonder that that she could do so again now.

The power of that moment coursed through her for several long seconds, that she could bend him to her will and make him her own. Just as quickly she realized that to do so would be utterly and altogether cruel.

The realization hit hard enough to force the air from her lungs. She was cruel. Her.

Across her conscience she saw a flash of Sebastian's worried face as he entered the ballroom, searching for her after she'd just come from her interlude with Cedric. He'd been wracked with worry while she was engaged in a liaison with another man.

Oh god.

And Cedric. What had she done to him? Been doing to him for months?

Her eyes slid closed, remembering a scene much like the one she was enduring now, but back then she'd been the one dolling out the rejection:

 _Suddenly she knew what she needed to do, and it involved more lies and deceit._

 _"Cedric," she spoke carefully, looking him directly in the face. "I need you to understand me. What happened between us probably wouldn't have without the potion. Not because I didn't want it to, but because I never would have worked up courage to approach you with such a proposition._

 _"I don't regret it, nor do I believe it was a mistake," her voice was steady, hoping to convey all that she couldn't admit out loud. It wouldn't help either of them for him to know how deeply she regretted all that she couldn't tell him. "That said, I think we both know that it can't happen again. I wouldn't wish to jeopardize our friendship or your position here. There's no need for you to leave out of some sense of misplaced obligation to me."_

After seducing him the first time, she'd cast Cedric aside. Yes there were reasons behind the maneuver, but her rationales didn't diminish the realization that she was the cause of more pain than she'd originally thought. Yes, she had always felt callous and cold about lying to him, but she hadn't suspected how deeply her careless plan to keep him near her had actually cut.

She'd insisted he stay. Like a selfish child refusing to give up a toy.

Another barrage of memories assaulted her, solidifying into crystalline certainty:

 _His face hovering over her own, a look of dawning wonder coming into being._

 _The way he shut himself away, blaming everything on himself despite the fact that she very clearly seduced him against his better judgment._

 _Her father's shocking declaration of Cedric's attempted resignation._

 _The look on Cedric's face when she told him what happened between them hadn't meant anything to her._

 _His hollow, resigned tone when he assured her that he would stay._

 _Setting fire to a young man who dared to put his arm around her._

 _Waking up in his study to find him watching her from the shadows, his favorite blanket draped over her lap._

 _His subtle look of shock and pleasure when she kissed his cheek._

 _The yawning silence that threatened to swallow her whole when she told him she had a date._

 _The butterflies-in-her-stomach feeling of watching an honest smile transform his entire face when she chose to stay for Bella's "departure"._

 _When he'd all but run from her after hearing Amber's talk about kingdoms and queens and babies._

 _His face hovering close to hers, eyes heavy with worry and fear as he held her bloody hand in his own._

 _The dark sheen of lust in his gaze when he grasped the back of her neck, pressing his lips against hers._

 _"I didn't need to know what your skin feels like ..._

 _what you taste like ..._

 _what your voice sounds like as you-"_

 _"And I really didn't need to know that -"_

He never finished what he was going to say, but she could hear the words clear as a bell in her head.

And- _"I don't want to be your fucking friend."_

And just now, when he'd kissed her like the world was ending.

Oh.

"Do you-," she wasn't sure she should ask, but she had to know. "Do you love me?"

His eyes widened in open surprise, and he paused, considering. His lopsided smile, half indolent smirk, half self-deprecating frown, the same one that always made her stomach flip over, softened his words. "And they say there are no stupid questions."

"Cedric," she prompted. She needed to hear him say it.

"Yes." He was so tired of holding the words inside. He shouldn't tell her, especially now, but she would want him to tell the truth. He sighed, "But it doesn't matter."

Her mind raced. He loved her. How could that not matter? It didn't seem possible.

He loved her, and she ... pain made her back away from completing the thought. This wasn't the ardent declaration she'd imagined. He wasn't passionately declaring his love for her, swearing to fight for her, for them, against all odds like the hero from a story.

 _He's letting me go_ , she realized. But ... With her there was always that last ray of hope, no matter how dim or small.

Another memory took her by surprise:

 _"I didn't ask to be a princess."_

 _She didn't know where those words came from, or the conviction behind them. "Someday I'll be expected to marry a prince, or a duke, or a count. I know my parents will let me choose who I like, maybe even someone I care for, but I can't choose whoever I like. I can't marry you for instance, even if I wanted to. I'm not saying I want us to be married," she added hastily, sensing she'd strayed too far from her original point. "I'm just asking, can't I choose this for myself?"_

Couldn't she choose for herself? Apparently not.

She'd known. She'd always known, from the very first, that any relationship between them was doomed. But that knowledge didn't ease the pain once the reality was upon her.

Everything was falling apart, and still she clung to that last ray.

"But," she looked up with wide, unshed tears polishing her eyes to bright saphhire, "I'd choose you, if I could."

His expression tightened in a spasm of pain, and guilt welled inside her. Was there nothing she could do or say that didn't cause him pain?

"But you can't," he let out a shaky breath, "and, more importantly, you shouldn't, even if you could."

Her brows drew together in troubled confusion _. But you love me._ "Why?" She asked, that one tiny word heavy with desperation.

He'd set his course, and now he had to walk it, no matter how treacherous the terrain. "What would you have me do, Sofia? Declare for you tonight? Walk up to your father, the ruler of the entire kingdom, and pronounce that I wish to marry his daughter, but it's alright because I already compromised her virtue half a year ago."

"Perhaps not that last bit," she allowed, her mouth managing to quirk up in a humorless smirk.

"Indeed." Displeasure colored his tone and he ran his hands through his hair in agitation. "But let's suppose that the world has turned upside down and by some miracle he agrees, rather than the far more likely scenario where I'm laughed out of the throne room and subsequently fired, what kind of life would you expect to live?"

She was silent, taking too long to search for the answer.

"I. Am. A. Servant," he enunciated each word. "To your father's crown. I'm trapped in this forsaken tower, condemned to performing parlor tricks for your peers. How understanding do you think your friends would be once you became the wife of one of their subordinates?"

She blinked, her mind racing to keep up with his logic, trying not to become distracted by his open talk of marriage. Was he saying that he would marry her if he could? The conversation had taken a turn she never expected and she wasn't prepared to refute his arguments.

He continued on. "And where would we live, hm? You could move in here I suppose, but I doubt there's enough room for your collection of slippers, let alone flouncing dresses."

Her expression turned sour, angry that he seemed to be making her out to be a vapid paramour. She opened her mouth, but he ignored her obvious desire to interrupt.

"So at best, you can hope to be a social outcast who spends the rest of her life looking in on the world you used to be a part of." His voice softened minutely, desperate that she understand why he was doing this. "I've been the outcast my whole life, Sofia, trust me when I tell you it's not an enviable position.

And a worst, we engage in a secret affair. You'll have to lie to everyone you care about. Deceiving them until you're eventually pressured into some politically advantageous marriage while I am forced to watch."

Misery descended upon her, snuffing out the light.

Cedric watched her struggle for balance. It was in her nature to fight for what she believed was right, and nothing was so precious as love. He was older, and though he'd spent the past decade and a half in this dusty tower, he was still the more worldly one between them. He had pride and vanity in droves, but even he did not possess such hubris to believe she loved him back. Infatuated, perhaps. Physically curious, understandable given that he'd taken her maidenhead, and, so far as he knew, had touched her in ways no other man had. But love? What a ridiculous notion.

He needed to severe the ties between them, making her forgo any feelings of pity or obligation to him. She needed to let go now, so he could save her further pain.

He never thought he'd hate being right, but he detested that he'd been correct from the start. They had always been a terrible idea. _A terrible, wonderful, heartbreaking idea._

"And what do you expect me to do?" Her voice sounded small and wholly unlike her, quavering with uncertainty.

He knew the time had come to strike ruthlessly. He'd never been a man of morals and lying never bothered him before, and form a certain angle he was only offering the truth. He gathered every bit of his black, sardonic nature to him, forcing the vile words out with conviction. "Marry Sebastian Rousseau, if that's what you want. Become queen like you were always meant to be. Have a dozen green-eyed babies, if it pleases you. Forget all this madness ... and get your happy ending."

Comprehension dawned alongside alarm, and she paused a moment to compose herself. He watched as her expression drew closed, hiding her dismay. A few more years, perhaps more heartbreak and hard-learned lessons like this one, and she'd make a formidable diplomat. "You never struck me as the type to believe in fairy tales," she said, reading from the same script they spoke to each other half a year ago. It was a feeble, last attempt to unseat his stubborn determination to dismiss her.

"Maybe not," he hated himself for being the one to diminish some of the light inside her. She would be so much better off without him casting shadows into her life. "But you did."

The sheen of unshed tears brightened her eyes. There was little she could say, so twisted around by the unfair failing of her world as she had thought she understood it. Love conquered all, but not this time.

Unlike the last time they'd come to such an unhappy impasse there would be no maid to come collect her and help her toddle off to the comfort of her bed and the welcome oblivion of a sleeping draught. He seemed to realize the same as he came forward to gently clasp her shoulders. His hands squeezed just once while he pressed a chaste, sweet kiss to her forehead. Of all the kisses he'd ever given her, the innocent gesture threatened to wring the unshed tears from her eyes. She choked back a sob, trying to remain poised and strong as a princess should.

"Goodnight, Sofia," he murmured quietly.

She turned quickly, nearly tearing out of his grip. He said goodnight, but all she heard was goodbye. Despair, mingled with anguished embarrassment as his rejection threatened to overwhelm her.

He seemed so calm, so collected as he brushed her aside and she wondered if this was how he'd felt when she'd rejected him. His composure needled her already tender feelings, deepening the sense of her distress.

She fumbled for the doorknob through blurred eyes. Even as she hurried out, desperate to save what little face she had left, she couldn't deny a last look over her shoulder.

His emotions were hidden from her, like a house with all the shutters drawn. He had the good grace to lower his gaze as if honoring her privacy in such a raw moment. As he closed the door with reserved gentleness, Sofia wished to slam it off its hinges.

He claimed he loved her, but he told her to marry another. How could he be so disturbingly serene, while anguish and misery threatened to swallow her whole.

She felt too weak to make her way back to her room alone, and she pressed her forehead against the cool wood or his door while tracks of tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. This wasn't the wild, childish weeping like after spreading her own tale of indifference. This was the quiet anguish of a woman who had just had her heart broken.

The splintering crash of broken glass sounding from within startled her enough to grasp the door knob. Her first thought was for his safety, that he's somehow hurt himself, but when another sound, the cacophony of heavy books and flying papers hitting the floor, punctuated by a growled oath that made her ears burn, she released the handle. Her hand splayed over the heavy door, bearing silent witness to his torrent of destruction and pain.

She had never felt so helpless in all her life.

* * *

"Princess?"

Sofia's eyes felt gummy but dry when she opened them the next morning. Someone was knocking softly, but she remained turned away, curled up under the covers facing the far wall. She hoped they would just go away. She didn't even feel the good grace to acknowledge their presence.

Violet poked her head in. Her quiet voice had the tone of someone approaching a patient on their death bed. "Excuse me, Princess, sorry to wake you, but you have a visitor."

Sofia couldn't imaging the image she presented to the bashful maid as she rounded the end of the bed. The feathery fingers of dawn were already kissing the windows before she finally fell into a heavy sleep born from exhaustion and despair. She blinked, registering that the sun was quite high in the sky. Her eyes burned, too dry from crying so many tears. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and a dull headache had taken up residence between her temples.

Violet looked at her expectantly.

"Who-," she had to clear her throat. "Who is it?"

"Prince Sebastian of Roy-"

"Yes, yes," Sofia loosened a hand from under the covers to wave the title away, grumbling, "I know."

Violet frowned at her, coming closer. "Are you ill, Miss?"

Sofia knew that she was tactfully inquiring if the princess was suffering from the effects of imbibing too much drink at last night's festivities. Sofia flopped onto her back, uncharitably ignoring the older woman for a moment. She ground the palms of her hands against her dry eyes, tempted to confirm the assumption and send Sebastian away. All she wanted to do was curl into a ball of misery and wallow.

Why couldn't she ever be allowed to wallow? Oh, that's right, she sighed, because it wasn't in her nature.

She sat up, feeling like a creaking door hinge. "Please have Baileywick inform Sebastian that I'll be down as soon as I can make myself ready."

"Very good, Miss," Violet's posture relaxed in relief.

Sofia imagined the older woman had probably been in fits all night for allowing a man into her lady's chamber. If only Violet knew what had happened in here, she'd probably have a heart attack.

After delivering her message, Violet returned with a tray of tea and sweet biscuits. She muttered to herself, in a bit of a tizzy over the wretched state of her charge. Sofia sipped tea, too depressed to offer apologies or excuses.

A profession nonetheless, Violet had her whipped into a suitable gown, her hair brushed and pinned back by a dainty tiara. With the speed and skill of a slight of hand magician, the older woman had the princess looking relatively fresh and polished in moments. Sofia gazed at her reflection, seeing a stranger looking back. Despite Violet's skills, dark circles still shadowed her red rimmed eyes.

Sofia rose, running purely on muscle memory and habit, to meet her suitor.

* * *

Sebastian was in the drawing room, wringing his leather riding gloves between his bare hands. When she entered, he shot to his feet like a hound greeting its master. Sofia favored him with a watery smile.

"Princess," he smiled, offering the empty chair to his side. Taking his own seat, he sat forward on the edge, eager energy written in his posture. "I apologize for disturbing you, but I wanted a private moment to speak with you."

"Oh?" Sofia was using all her concentration not to squint against the bright shards of sunlight streaming through the windows. Her murmured responses were automatic. "Think nothing of it."

His smile widened and she paused to regard him. His handsome face held a well balanced combination of features. His green eyes, fringed in thick black lashes that would make any girl swoon, and the plush contours of his lips were only saved from effeminacy but the square lines of his jaw. She wondered with detached interest how many lovers he'd had.

Once, not so long ago, she wouldn't ever consider such a question. Perhaps she would have naively believed him to be a virgin, waiting breathlessly for the right princess. That he was kind and caring didn't deter her from the realization that he'd probably bedded his share of consorts. She wasn't sure if the thought should deter or entice her.

"I wanted to give you your present," he was saying, bringing her concentration back to the conversation at hand. "I didn't give it to you last night at the ball because ... well ..."

His cheekbones colored and she realized he was nervous. He reached down beside his chair and Sofia noticed for the first time a package wrapped in a length of silk fabric, tied with an elegant lavender ribbon.

The package was slim but heavy when he settled it into her hands. Too large for a book, but too slender to be much else, curiosity got the better of her and she undid the ribbon while he watched her with eager eyes.

When the silk wrappings parted she found herself looking down on an elegant plaque. Line of script were meticulously carved into the heavy lacquered wood, each letter filled in with gilt. She squinted at the impossibly elegant carvings, reading a few lines.

"It's the history of my kingdom," he cleared his throat self-consciously.

After the long, strenuous night she'd endured, her mind didn't feel up to puzzles. He was obviously trying to convey some special meaning, but she blinked at him stupidly.

He seemed to realize that she didn't understand. Clearing his throat again, he edging forward in his seat. He tilted his head to regard the tablet poised on her lap. "You see, this details the forming of the Royaume boarders," he babbled as his finger trailed over the carved lines, "Through the goblin wars of 1127. Look, it even mentions Enchancia here."

Sofia looked. She enjoyed history and she'd never been one to turn her nose up at the simplest of gifts, often preferring tokens that came from the heart, but she couldn't fathom the meaning behind this old and obviously precious piece.

"It's admittedly not the best gift," he chuckled, nervously plucking an invisible spot of lint from his trousers. "You see, it's sort of a loan."

"Um?" She was so tired.

"Yes, you see, it's rather valuable. One of my kingdom's treasures."

She gazed down at the plank of wood, her sluggishly churning brain slowly catching on. He wanted her to know the history of his kingdom. He trusted her to keep this national treasure safe until it could be returned.

Until she returned it.

Until she ...

"Look, Sofia," he tentatively reached forward, taking her limp hand in his. "I am not trying to pressure you into anything you do not want. In my bumbling way, I am asking if you are at least considering a future between us."

She took a moment to consider before answering slowly. "Of course. I mean, how could I not consider it, given who you are. Who I am. Our respective positions in life."

It was an honest answer, but a subjective one. Her meaning could be taken in several ways.

Sebastian's smile eased and he squeezed her hand gently in his own. Her answer pleased him, though Sofia wasn't sure that it should.

She looked down at his tan skin, dark against her own milky pallor. His hands were smooth and soft, no calluses from hours spent pulling magic plants from the ground, or grinding dried herbs with a mortar and pestle. No glossy burns or scars healed over after years of trials and errors. Sebastian's hands were those of a noble man who spent his days in leisure and never forgot to wear his riding gloves.

She stared at his blunt fingers, each nail trimmed, their beds smooth and pink. Most young ladies would titter and blush at the mere insinuation of holding hands with a beloved, but Sofia couldn't stop thinking about the eventuality of those hands touching her in dark, secret places.

Sebastian handled her so carefully, as if she were a delicate figure of spun glass. It startled her to realize that she wasn't at all what he thought, in so many ways. Without ever having spoken of it she knew he expected, _assumed_ , that she was chaste. A blushing, virginal maiden, untouched by any man.

And Cedric had touched so much more than her body. He was part of her, nestled deep in a secret corner of her heart, and the future, no matter what it held, could not change that. For the first time she realized that perhaps Sebastian deserved someone better than herself.

She frowned, discomfited by the thought. "Are you proposing to me?"

"No," he laughed in an easy, unselfconscious way.

Some of her tension eased away, realizing that he understood at least a little. It was too soon for such drastic declarations. She wasn't ready. Not by a long shot.

"I can't promise that isn't my intention," he ducked his head in a move so fraught with boyish charm that Sofia couldn't help but feel her heart flutter. "But not now. Not yet. We hardly know each other, but I was wondering, hoping, that we might get to know one another better. What I am asking is, Sofia of Enchancia, do I have your permission to court your affections openly?"

It was almost an odd question, given that they had been on several public outings over the last month, but she understood his intentions perfectly. There were different levels of courtship and Sebastian was asking to make their casual stabs at affection into a more permanent arraignment. To make it known to their publically that marriage was the ultimate intent.

She'd have to commit to making an honest effort to return his affection.

Her gut reaction was to pull away, to curl into a shell of self-protection as her heart was so recently wounded. She soothed the feeling down, considering what he was asking of her.

It was what was expected of her.

What her family would want.

What her kingdom would want.

But most damning of all:

 _"Marry Sebastian Rousseau, if that's what you want. Become queen like you were always meant to be. Have a dozen green-eyed babies, if it pleases you. Forget all this madness ... and get your happy ending."_

It's what Cedric wanted her to do.

She felt the curious burden of responsibility weigh upon her shoulders, as if she had an obligation to see things through with Sebastian. Or at the very least to try. So preoccupied by her infatuation with Cedric, she hadn't given Sebastian any sort of honest opportunity.

She swallowed down the lump that had formed in the back of her throat, clenching her fingers around his with a strength that was born less from ardent devotion and more closely resembled the zealous determination with which she met any challenge. Her dry eyes shown with an almost savage intensity. "Yes," she declared. "Yes, you do."

* * *

Author's Note: So right now I know a few of you are saying, "WTF Sofia?! Did you not hear Cedric saying that he freaking loves you!? What are you doing, girl?" Yeah, okay, but Cedric also said a lot of other things like, "Nothing can or will happen between us" and "there is no future for us" and "hey, you know that prince guy, you really should go marry him instead of me".

Okay, so don't hate. I know, I know. You've all been so patient waiting for Cedric to declare his love. He finally does, and ... it doesn't matter. But then it never has. He's been in love with her for the majority of the story and it hasn't done him any good.

But keep the faith guys. I promise I have a plan. And lemons. I have lemons in my back pocket just waiting to make some righteous lemonade. (And, no, I don't do anything other than Cedfia pairings, so fear not.)

Side note: You might remember that lines where Sofia says, "You never struck me as the type to believe in fairy tales." and Cedric answers, "Maybe not, but you did." is the same words they said to each other way back in chapter 2.


	19. Chapter 19

Author's Note: Hey all! Sorry, I did not plan on taking the entire summer off from posting. The weather was just too nice and I felt too guilty staying indoors. I did go back and re-edit the entire story from the beginning. Nothing changed story-wise, just some minor wording and I expanded the scene in chapter 13 when Cedric and Sofia release Belladonna and she comes back. I felt it was a little rushed. Oh, and there are song lyrics before each chapter now. :) These are the songs that remind me of that particular chapter.

* * *

Intoxication: Chapter Nineteen

* * *

 _You were the shadow to my light  
Did you feel us?  
Another star  
You fade away  
Afraid our aim is out of sight  
Wanna see us  
Alight_

 _Where are you now?  
Where are you now?  
Where are you now?  
Was it all in my fantasy?  
Where are you now?  
Were you only imaginary?_

 _Where are you now?  
Atlantis  
Under the sea  
Under the sea  
Where are you now?  
Another dream  
The monster's running wild inside of me  
I'm faded  
I'm faded  
So lost, I'm faded_

-Alan Walker _, Faded_

* * *

Sofia applauded, smiling radiantly as Princess Amber of Enchancia accepted the marriage proposal of Prince Zandar of Tangu. Anyone could see the genuine love that radiated between them, but Sofia watched with avid fascination as her sister flushed endearingly while Zandar knelt at her feet, looking up with open adoration. Their connection was palpable and it made Sofia's heart heavy with envy. She could swear that Amber didn't even pause to consider the enormous diamond set into the ring before she uttered a enthusiastic, "Yes!"

But when Amber approached her family, she admired the ring greatly, turning her hand this way and that to regard it at every possible angle.

"Congratulations, sweetheart," Roland hugged his eldest daughter, kissing her head with paternal pride.

"Thank you, Daddy," Amber cooed, never taking her eyes off the new piece of extravagant jewelry.

Miranda embraced her next. "Zandar is a fine young man. I'm very happy for you both."

For once the blond princess looked up, her earnest face free of its usual shrewd expression. "He is, isn't he?"

"Yes," Sofia confirmed, feeling the first spark of genuine happiness in over a month. "And you do love him?"

"Of course."

Amber's brow threatened to thunder down, and Sofia rushed to sooth her. "I know. I just want you to be happy. Really happy."

Amber's frosty expression thawed, perhaps sensing her sister's sincerity. She took Sofia's cold hands in her own. "I am."

 _That makes one of us_ , Sofia thought, but kept her lips sealed. She didn't wish to darken Amber's special day. When Sebastian slipped his hand around her waist, smiling down at her with green eyes lit with contentment, she felt like the world was mocking her. She smiled back, trying her best to mean it.

Back home in Enchancia, August had faded into a bleak September. The sun still shone down on the fields surrounding Dunwhitty, but a chill threaded through the air, bearing the promise of a bitter winter. Here in Tangu the air barely moved, sultry and hot. Sofia had looked forward to the warmth of the desert, but even its dry touch couldn't thaw the frozen pain in her heart.

Her courtship to Sebastian was public knowledge now, not that it changed much. Every circle of gossip before her birthday celebration had been dominated with conjecture regarding their public outings. After Derby Day several of her princess friends had hounded her for details, but she'd managed to demure, neither confirming nor denying their status. Now that that their courtship was public, the gossips no longer bothered with whispers. Everywhere she and Sebastian went, she saw open, knowing looks raking over them. Just a matter of time, everyone said, until their marriage was sealed.

She suspected the unexpected invitation from Prince Zandar, extended to the entire royal family of Enchancia for a special ball, had something to do with the not-so-subtle rumors. All the talk of proposals and marriage surrounding Sofia and Sebastian put pressure on others as well. When the embossed invitation from Tangu arrived Amber had squealed with delight, suspecting that a proposal from the Tangu prince was the real intent.

And Zandar had delivered. Not only was the ball held in his fiancé's honor splendid, dripping with extravagance, but the occasion had been held strategically at the close of the social season. With winter coming, parties would be few as most of the aristocracy retired to locations of warmer weather. By proposing at the close of the season, Zandar had ensured that Amber's engagement would be the talk of everyone until spring, exactly how she would have wanted it. Her newly minted fiancé, it would seem, knew Amber better than Sofia had suspected.

Sofia watched as Zandar beamed at his beloved, seemingly unaware of anyone else present. Amber hid a wide smile behind her fan, as if displaying such intense happiness was unbecoming of a future queen. The Tangu prince leaned in to whisper something in her ear making Amber blushed an engaging shade of pink. Sofia felt a petty stab of bitterness pierce her heart before quickly admonished herself. Who was she to begrudge her sister's happiness? The depths of Sofia's gloom had nothing to do with Amber's contentment. She was merely jealous that she couldn't replicate her sister's genuine interest and delight in marrying a handsome prince.

Sebastian _was_ handsome. And charming. And genuinely considerate. When he passed, every young woman around wilted, smitten by his fair hair and bright green eyes. His entrance into a room was always accompanied by the tittering of female laughter, carefully hidden behind ornate fans. Most young ladies her age would swoon at the very thought of him turning his attention their way. A few of her peers flounced with jealousy, but mostly, as beloved as she was, no one begrudged her such a prestigious match.

And there wasn't much jealousy to be stirred; Sebastian openly adored her. Wherever they were, whatever they did, he showered her with attention. No matter the company, his eyes were only on her. He was thoughtful and affectionate. He saw to her every need and want, taking pains to assure her comfort.

She should be overjoyed. She should be glowing. She should be eagerly awaiting her own proposal.

She wasn't doing any of that.

She was miserable. Utterly, wretchedly miserable. And that she was miserable, feeling ungrateful and gloomy, only made her feel more miserable. She was a self-starter. She was five foot five inches of bubbly, can-do energy that everyone believed welled from her in an unlimited amount. She never gave up and she never said surrender. She solved problems with a sunny optimism that came in such great supply that it spread to everyone around her.

She felt like a failure.

The one thing she had managed to do was to cultivate some measure of care for Sebastian. His constant concern and consideration harkened to her own generous nature and she felt a kindred sympathy. She felt it her responsibility to assure his happiness. To assure everyone's happiness, but the toll was beginning to wear her thin.

It helped that Cedric wasn't much in residence these past few weeks. She tried not to notice, but her efforts proved futile. Whenever she saw a flash of purple robes, or heard his name, her attention was immediately diverted. In this way she'd discovered that he'd been spending many long hours away from the castle. When in residence, he was either locked away in his tower, naturally, or in meetings with the king, rather unnaturally. She couldn't suppose what gave him cause to spend so much time in the company of her father. At first she feared a problem in the kingdom, but heard nothing to suggest there was one. Her next concern was for Winifred's health. That fear took root, seeming the most likely reason for him to be away. Cedric adored his mother, though he often acted put upon by her coddling. Concern grew until it overrode embarrassment and she swallowed down her pride, approaching him to inquire about her health when she'd caught him coming from her father's study one afternoon.

His mother was fine, he'd assured her, seeming not at all surprised or concerned that she'd ask. But he didn't offer any further explanation for his frequent outings. He merely bid her good day and continued on his way. She had watched him go, staring down the empty hall long after his robes whipped out of sight around the corner.

He looked well, she'd realized. He didn't look like man pining away for an impossible love. He handled himself with a confidence and aplomb that made her in turns jealous and angry. How dare he be so calm! She'd had the insensible desire to stalk after him, to rant and rail until he showed some modicum of emotion. She, the woman he supposedly loved, was openly courting another man. Every gossip and whisper centered on when and how Prince Sebastian would propose to her, and he was acting like the sky was blue, birds were singing in the hedgerows, and all was right with the world.

Her fists had clenched and her teeth gnashed, only then realizing the depths her anger could plum. She was sweet and gentle. She spoke to animals and made friends with trolls. She was a delicate, beloved princess damn it! But as she stood in that empty hall, seething at the air, she felt rage unlike anything before. She wanted nothing more than to pound down his door, screaming, "Damn you! Damn you to hell! I'm doing this for you. Don't you see that? I'm miserable because of you!"

It took a moment before her breathing evened out and she felt a bit light headed from the effort. Following him wouldn't do any good, except to prove embarrassing for her. He claimed he loved her, but he was acting as if she didn't matter, as if they didn't matter. The irony wasn't lost on her, and it cut deeply.

After the night of her birthday party there were no more fights between them. No arguments, no accusations or insults. It might have been nice, except it bespoke a bland civility that bordered on indifference. Cedric didn't look at her in _that_ way anymore. His dark eyes didn't glitter with jealousy or lust. When he looked on her now, as seldom as that was, it was with a soft expression holding only a hint of wistful pain.

They didn't seek out each other's company, but nor did they avoid one another. To everyone's eyes they were politely cordial in every way; the commensurate picture of a mentor addressing a former student; an older man showing due courtesy to a young lady of status; one old friend greeting another. It was everything she had wanted: _If only he wouldn't look at her like that. If only they could be friends_. He was back to being the enigmatic Mister Cedric, acerbic and grumpy to everyone and only marginally more civil to her.

And she had her own charming prince who doted upon her, who valued her thoughts and opinions, who held her in great esteem, probably even loved her. Who everyone was certain was working up to a grand proposal of marriage.

She should feel giddy with happiness, flushed with excitement and elation for her gallant suitor. She should be daydreaming about her wedding day and happily ever after to follow.

She should be happy.

She was absolutely miserable.

That misery had followed her to Tangu, where even the desert sun couldn't burn it away. And here she stood, on the arm of one of the realm's most eligible and desired princes, feeling like a fraud. Amber and Zandar's open adoration for one another thrust her pantomime courtship of Sebastian in sharp relief, exposing her flimsy veil of feelings for the green-eyes prince. No one seemed to notice, Sebastian himself appeared completely besotted in her company, but she knew, and shame tightened her stomach into knots.

* * *

Later in the evening Sofia stood next to her mother, watching Sebastian and her father converse, deep in a discussion about trade relations with Tangu. Normally Sofia would have enjoyed engaging in such a conversation, but at the moment she was preoccupied, struck by the similarities between the two men. Sebastian's inoffensive, classic good looks reminded her suddenly of her affable, fair haired step-father. The two got on well and her father clearly approved of the young man.

When the Sebastian excused himself for a moment, her father turned towards her, giving her a playful wink. "Quite the well-learned young man. Sebastian was just telling me about an unexplored mountain pass recently discovered in the Crown Range mountains between Royaume and Tangu. He's petitioned his father to put together an expedition of cartographers to scout and map a quicker route between the kingdoms. Quite the ambitious undertaking."

Sofia could hear the warm note of approval in his voice. He admired ingenuity and spirit.

James came up alongside her elbow. "What are we talking about?"

Miranda gave her son a sly smile. "New trade routes between kingdoms."

A grimace pulled down the corners of James's mouth. "Ugh. How exciting."

Sofia smothered a giggle behind her hand while their father frowned.

"You might consider taking a page out of Prince Sebastian's book, young man. He puts the interests of his kingdom above all else, as a king should."

"Well, good for him," James's smile was tight and insincere. "Make sure you put that in your considerations, Sof, he always puts his kingdom's needs first."

Roland rounded in on his son, the two stood nearly nose to nose, but as a grown man James had the advantage of an inch of height on their father. "Your sister has done nothing to deserve your mockery, and I would thank you to apologies this instant."

Sofia watched from the sidelines as the two stared each other down. She had no idea that such tension existed between father and son. How much had she missed, so wrapped up in her own troubles? The muscle along the side of James's jaw tightened for a moment.

"Sorry, Sofia."

"That's alright," she replied honestly. James hadn't offended her, rather she found his black humor inappropriately amusing. But she wanted to help relieve the strain between them and kept her opinion on the matter to herself.

"You could learn a thing or two from your sister," Roland was saying. "Both of them. They both acknowledge and accept their duty to their kingdom."

"Which is more than you can say for me. Yeah, I know, you've told me." James disrespectfully rolled his eyes. "If you'll excuse me, my glass seems to be empty."

"James," Miranda tried to touch his arm as he passed. He paused long enough to give their mother's hand a squeeze before walking away.

Sofia looked between the displeased frown on their father's face and the troubled look on her mother's. "Is something wrong with James?"

A silent, tense moment passed between the king and queen and Sofia had the notion that this was a subject they were familiar with discussing. Familiar with and conflicting on.

"We knew this day was coming, Miranda. We've spoken about this."

"Mom?"

"What you father means," Miranda said, with a hint of steel in her voice, "is that your happiness is important to us. The happiness of all of you."

"And while your happiness _is_ important," Roland interrupted, but gently, "Your brother will be king someday. That can't be avoided, and he has the added responsibility of choosing a suitable queen to rule by his side. Something he's shown relatively little interest in."

Sofia considered the answer: diplomatic and bland, leaving out the turmoil that seemed to bubble between father and son. She felt a pang of sympathy towards her brother. Wrapped up in her own drama, she hadn't seen him struggling.

"Amber appears to be happy," Sofia answered carefully, not sure if this was the time or place to broach the loaded subject of suitors, duty and happiness.

"Yes, she does." Her father seemed to be emphasizing the point for his wife.

"And," Miranda interrupted him this time, slipping and arm around her daughter's waist and giving her a reassuring hug. "I want you _all_ to be happy."

Roland held up his hands in surrender. "As do I, Dear. And _they_ do appear to be happy as well."

Sofia glanced back and forth between her parents; he father's complacent smile and her mother's troubled frown. It came to her suddenly that they "they" he meant was Sebastian and herself.

Her mother turned to gaze down at her, and Sofia felt all the pain and torment of the past year bubble to the surface. She couldn't hide it, couldn't put her mask properly in place, and she feared her mother saw and understood all. For a moment Sofia feared she might burst into turbulent tears in the middle of the crowded ballroom. And for a wild moment she considered confessing. If anyone would understand, her mother would.

She blinked, forcing the tears away, and the moment passed. Now was not the time or the place for dramatics. "I'm fine," she said.

Miranda's eyes continued to search her face, not at all satisfied by her daughter's tepid assurances.

"See?" Roland interjected, missing the subtle exchange between mother and daughter. "As for Amber, this is what she's had her eye set on since she was a little girl."

He winked at Sofia, and she forced herself to smile. Her mother's arm squeezed her waist.

Sebastian walking back towards them, offering Sofia a gallant bow and his hand, "Would you care to dance, M'lady?"

She gave her mother a reassuring squeeze in return, but there was still a tightness around her mother's mouth and her smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she watched Sofia accept the prince's hand.

* * *

Sofia stole out onto the balcony, feeling like a thief. Except she was only trying to steal a moment to herself. The balmy desert air did little to lessen the suffocating feeling strangling her heart.

"I know why I'm hiding," a voice spoke up from the shadows, "But why do you look like you'd rather crawl in a hole than be here?"

Sofia jumped before recognizing her brother's voice. Squinting into the darkness, she saw him sitting on the wide banister, one booted ankles crossed over the other. "James," she murmured in relief, pressing a hand to her fluttering stomach. "You surprised me."

"Sorry, Sof," he took a swig from the champagne flute in his hand. "Didn't mean to."

"That's alright."

She floated over, taking a seat beside him. She could smell alcohol on his breath and wondered how much he'd had to drink.

"Had to have my best friend, didn't she?" James slugged back his champagne with sullen petulance. "Could have had her pick of princes and she had to take my best friend."

Sofia frowned in sympathy, touching his arm in comfort. "If it helps, they really do seem to be in love."

"I guess," he conceded begrudgingly.

"Come on," she nudged his shoulder with hers. "Admit it. You're happy for them."

James rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation, unable to keep a subtle smile from quirking up the corner of his mouth. "Are you kidding? Zandar has no idea what he's set himself up for. Can you imagine what a monster Amber's going to be, planning a wedding?"

Sofia cringed. "I see what you mean."

The quiet desert air settled between them. Sofia traced out the constellations she knew with her eyes, gazing up at the twinkling night. "So," she said finally, "what's really bothering you?"

James rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just, all this talk about marriage gives me the creeps. Dad's been breathing down my neck every chance he gets, reminding me about my _duty_ ," he made quotes round the word with his fingers. He paused. "I'm barely twenty. How am I supposed to know which girl I'll love the rest of my life, let alone one that'll make a good ruler."

She frowned with a sympathy that bordered on empathy. She hadn't thought that of all the people in her life James would be the one to understand the pressure of uncertain love and resolute duty. He was usually so flippant about everything, but now she saw it was a thin veneer shielding an underlying bitterness. What happened to the boy who's only care was making things go boom? The same thing that had happened to her, she supposed: Life.

James turned to her suddenly. "You're not really going to marry that Sebastian guy, are you?"

Her mouth popped open, taken aback by his concern. "You don't like him?"

"He's alright," James shrugged, playing absently with one of the gold tassels on his formal jacket. "He was a great derby rider while at Royal Prep."

Sofia couldn't help rolling her eyes. Of course that's what James would focus on.

"He's just so boring," he was saying. "I always expected you would end up with someone more exciting."

Sofia smiled, charmed that he'd given it any thought. "Did you have anyone in mind?"

"No, I just always expected of all of us you wouldn't fall for all ...," he gestured vaguely towards the open ballroom, "This. I thought you'd be like Aunt Tilly. Travel the world, have adventures, fall in love with a, I don't know, a troll king, or a traveling knight, or a grand wizard or something like that. Someone unexpected"

Sofia had been in turns amused and annoyed by her brother's suggestion of suitors, until his suggestion began to hit too close to home. "Well," she tossed her head in an imitation of Amber's offended attitude. "Sebastian happens to be quite ... lovely. And he cares about me."

"I know," James whined, oblivious to her antics. "But he's so dull. I can't imagine he makes you happy."

She looked down at her hands. "Are you really that concerned about it?"

"If any of us deserves to be happy, Sofia, it's you."

He was so in earnest, so somber that it made her fidget. She couldn't meet his eyes.

"Anyway, I guess he keeps Dad off your back. " He slide her a mischievous smile. "I guess Prince Boring is at least good for something."

"Hey!" She laughed, smacking his shoulder playfully. "Don't call Sebastian that. He's not boring, he's ... um."

James smile grew wider. "You can't even come up with anything, can you? Admit it, he's boring."

"No," Sofia crossed her arms stubbornly, "He's ... steady. Trustworthy and kind and loyal."

"You sound like you're describing my dog."

She scowled at him a moment before her lips trembled and she broke into a reluctant smile. "All right fine. But I won't call him boring. That's just mean."

"Ok," he held his hands up in mock surrender. "If you really like him, I suppose I can find some redeeming quality about him. Like I said, at least Mom and Dad seemed to have calmed down. I think you had them worried for a while."

"Worried?" She frowned. "About what?"

"You know," he gestured with his glass. "Your all-consuming preoccupation with magic."

"All-consuming ... preoccupation ...," She slowly processed the words, recognizing that they didn't sound like James's, but rather he was repeating something he'd heard.

"You know," he entreated, sensing he'd offended the female at his side. James was hopeless when it came to angry women. "I think Dad always found it a little childish."

"Childish?" Her brows went down in warning.

James waved his hand, desperate to clarify his meaning. "I just meant that ... I think Dad was always a little worried you'd end up like Aunt Tilly."

"What's wrong with Aunt Tilly?"

"Nothing!" James' shrill tones echoed around the empty balcony. He took a deep breath, starting over. "I just think Mom and Dad were a little relieved when you stopped spending so much time with Mister Cedric. I never cared, but ..."

"But, what?" She prompted, hands curling around the granite banister like a vice.

"I think they were worried you didn't have any interest in finding a suitor, what with your head always stuck in a spell book."

Sofia didn't know if she should feel annoyed by her family's casual disregard for Cedric as a threat to her virtue, or relieved. For one mercenary moment she entertained a fantasy where she informed her smug brother exactly _how_ she had spent her time with Mister Cedric. But then she didn't relish the idea of horrifying him. She was his little sister after all.

"Sometimes I wish my head was still stuck in a spell book," she sighed, feeling weary of all this talk of their parents expectations and assumptions.

"Yeah," the tension in his shoulders eased, sensing that they were of an accord again.

"I suppose this is just growing up."

"I suppose," he sighed. "I used to be so excited to be king. Now, the constant pressure, I feel like ..."

"Like you can't breathe," she supplied.

He nodded, a deeper understanding moving between them. "Yeah, exactly."

Her brows drew together. "What did you mean earlier? When you said I deserved to be happy? I mean don't we all deserve to be happy?"

"In a perfect world, sure." He looked at her and in that moment she saw shades of the king he would one day be. The mantle already hung heavy on his shoulders. "But I think we all know happiness isn't guaranteed."

"But," Sofia urged, unable to let his earlier comment pass. "Why just me? Why do I deserve to be happy even if you aren't? That doesn't seem fair."

"Why?" He snorted, "So we can be miserable together?"

He could see at once that she didn't find his dark humor the least amusing. He looked at her somberly, "I just meant that ... Amber and I, we were born into this. It might not be fair, but we were raised knowing what to expect. You ... you were thrown into all this. And as kids it seemed like a charmed life, but as we got older, I could see this, being royalty, isn't all it's cracked up to be. I see you, Sofia, always doing things for other people. Making other people happy. I hate to think you're still doing that. I've seen you, this past year, you haven't been yourself."

She looked him in the eye, seeing his sincerity. For the second time in the night she felt like someone could see straight through her. For all his cavorting and rowdiness with his friends, sometimes Sofia forgot that her brother was quite a sensitive person underneath. Again, she felt the pull to unburden her conscience. She pulled eyes from his earnest gaze, ignoring the impulse. "Isn't that what you're doing? What's expected of you? From Mom and Dad? The kingdom?"

"Dad, sure, but I don't think Mom's all that keen on this race to marry stuff."

Sofia could infer that her mother was not of an aligned mindset to her husband. But then she'd been born a villager and not royalty. Sofia couldn't help but remember that she hadn't been born royalty either.

"Just don't marry Prince Boring because you think that's what everyone want you to do," he slipped his arm around her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. "I for one am still holding out for that troll king."

She laughed and it felt good to do so. "I'll see what I can do."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, both knowing it couldn't last.

"We should get back." She sighed.

"Yeah."

"Look on the bright side," Sofia bumped his shoulder with hers. "Now that Amber's engaged, she'll be driving everyone so crazy with preparations for her wedding that Dad probably won't have time to get on either of our cases."

"Brilliant," he muttered, draining the last of his glass.

* * *

Author's Note: I so wanted to have James in this story, but I found it hard to fit him in. I figured he would be most sympathetic to his little sister. And I thoroughly enjoyed having James point out how boring Sebastian is. :) I don't think I ever mentioned that Sebastian's kingdom Royaume is simple kingdom in French.

I am going to TRY, emphasis on try, to post on a regular schedule. I have all the final chapters sketched out and something written for each of them. There will be 32 chapters in total. So, 13 more to go. :)


	20. Chapter 20

Author's Note: So glad you guys are still into this story. I wanted to have this chapter out on Wednesday, but Cedric was not cooperating. Apparently he wasn't happy being relegated to a footnote and just had to have more face time. And then I just had to add Belladonna in there for fun.

* * *

Intoxication: Chapter Twenty

* * *

 _This is a modern fairy tale  
No happy endings  
No wind in our sails  
But I can't imagine a life without  
Breathless moments  
Breaking me down_

 _The bed's getting cold and you're not here  
The future that we hold is so unclear  
But I'm not alive until you call  
And I'll bet the odds against it all  
Save your advice 'cause I won't hear  
You might be right but I don't care  
There's a million reasons why I should give you up  
But the heart wants what it wants_

-Selena Gomez, _The Heart Wants What It Wants_

* * *

As their carriage neared the Enchancia boarder, Sofia could feel the temperature drop. Beside her, Amber settled deeper into her fur-lined cape, making no attempt to mask her boredom. Despite volunteering to play chaperone to Sofia and Sebastian on their ride back from Tangu, she obviously found the duty far less intriguing than she'd expected.

"It's gotten cold so early this year," Sofia remarked, casting about for anything to fill the silence.

"Yes," Sebastian leaned forward, grasping the subject eagerly. "Harvest season could be problematic this year. I hope the frost holds off."

An early winter could be catastrophic for the villagers. With crops still on the vine, one bout of killing frost could deprive dozens of families of their precious winter stores. Even with the intervening help of magic, the royal family could only offer so much assistance and people would still suffer without enough food to make it through the lean months. "How are things looking in Royaume?"

His lips tightened into a thin line. "Honestly, I'm worried. My father keeps assuring the lords that the weather will hold a few more weeks, but I am not convinced. I plan on speaking with him about it when I return."

Reaching out to grasp her hand, he shyly ducked his head. From the corner of her eye Sofia saw Amber's eyebrow raise up with interest, but Sebastian kept the caress modest and proper. He was always modest and proper with her. His restraint was part of the reason she'd been able to court him despite her stalled feelings. As of yet he had only done so much as kiss her farewell, his lips pecking lightly over each of her cheeks in the custom of his people. The gesture was a proper parting, but the way his warm lips lingered on her cheek just a moment longer than necessary always made her heart skip nervously.

"I will be busy over the coming weeks," he said, his voice soft with regret. "I will not have time to visit you."

She swallowed down the lump that rose to the back of her throat. It wasn't tears, but relief that brought it there. Relief and guilt. "O-of course."

"Harvest time is our busiest time of year. This year my father wishes me to oversee all preparations and their execution. My people are counting on me."

Sofia squeezed back against the gentle pressure of his fingers. His concern was sincere and she felt a kindred pang for his apprehension. "You'll do fine," she assured in her best can-do-Sofia voice.

He peered up at her from beneath thick black lashes, a lopsided smile on his face and she felt her heart stutter to a stop for a moment. She had to look away, afraid he'd see the truth behind her eyes. She flushed, flustered to be thinking of another crooked smile that always made her heart flip over. She banished the memory with effort and met Sebastian's gentle green gaze, offering a tentative smile of her own. Amber scoffed, making a disgusted noise. When Sofia glared, the blond tried to cover with a cough. Sebastian didn't seem to notice as he gave her hand a lingering squeeze before letting go.

Their winged carriage landed, and Sebastian alighted before helping first Sofia and then Amber down. Instructing the coachmen to wait, he tucked Sofia's hand into the crook of his arm. The Enchancia coach was already there, the king, the queen and Prince James mounting the stairs. Sofia's gown, which had complimented the Tangu heat, felt far too thin as the wind tore at her hair. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her throat. Sebastian reached over to gently pulling her hood up to cover her hair.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

Inside the warmth of the hall, Baileywick stood waiting with a contingent of footmen and a smattering of maids. The slight incline of his head signaled them into action. The footmen moved as one, hastening out to retrieve the royal luggage.

"Your majesties," the steward bowed respectfully, signaling the other servants to bow as well. "Welcome home. I trust you enjoyed your trip."

"We did," Roland smiled. "Some of us more than others."

Amber removed her gloves to flash the gaudy ring adorning her left hand. Her private maids, six in all, tittered appreciatively.

Baileywick offered a rare, unreserved smile. "Congratulations, Princess Amber."

"Thank you, Baileywick," she crooned, still entranced by her new bauble.

The steward turned back to the king. "Sire, once you are rested from your journey, there are some matters to go over."

"Of course," Roland sighed, already looking tired. "There always are."

"Anything I can take care of, Baileywick?" James spoke up, stoutly avoiding his father's eye.

The steward raised his grey brows, looking to his monarch first. Roland gave the slightest consenting nod. "Well," Baileywick began, "Perhaps the preparations for the Harvest Festival?"

"Great," James rubbed his hands together. "Just let me get changed and I'll meet you in the kitchen. I'm starving."

Sofia bit her lip to keep from smiling, but even Roland wore a subtle smirk. When James walked away, Sofia noticed their father watching after him, a subtle pride shining in his eyes. She realized this was James's way of making up for his rudeness in Tangu.

Sebastian shifted by her side. "You must be tired as well after your journey, Princess."

"Not really," she answered before thinking. She had never been so delicate as some of her peers, needing a lie down after every little activity or carriage ride. She never required the customary afternoon nap most ladies of privilege indulged in.

"I have a little time before I must be back," Sebastian smiled down at her. "Perhaps a walk around the castle?"

Sofia hesitated, but Amber jumped in quickly. "She'd love to."

"Amber." Miranda was looking at the three of them with an enigmatic expression, her voice was soft but reproving.

"I'm not tired, Mother." Their mother's tone flowed off the blond like water, taking no notice. "I can chaperone them. Perhaps we could show Sebastian the conservatory. It's one of Sofia's favorite places."

"That sounds lovely," Sebastian said, offering Sofia his arm. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Miranda watched them as they passed and Sofia offered her a reassuring smile.

* * *

As they strolled down the hall at a leisurely pace, Amber followed a sedate distance behind. Occasionally Sebastian remarked about a bit of art hanging on the wall, or a vase in an alcove. Sofia replied politely, but couldn't shake the anxious, agitated desire to be alone. Not that solitude made her any happier. Melancholy followed her wherever she went, and she couldn't shake this strange, new feeling. She was unused to be uncomfortable in her own skin. She'd always been so sure of herself and now she felt constantly at odds.

The sounds of bubbling water filtered down the hall through the open doors of the conservatory. Inside Sofia could hear the mumbled tones of a man's voice. She assumed it was Mister Greeves, the gardener. With his precious gardens put to bed for the winter, he often haunted the conservatory and solarium, fretting over the hothouse plants. Though the man could be overzealous on subjects like fertilizer and cross-species pollination, talking the ears off any listener he could capture, Sofia was subtlety glad for the intervening presence of another. Amber was busy gazing at her new diamond, barely casing a passing whim to her duties as chaperone. Sofia suspected her sister was trying to force her into a compromising situation with Sebastian. Or at least facilitate the circumstances for one.

Stepping into the sultry, humid air of the indoor garden, Sofia stumbled to a stop when the cawing of a raven echoed off the glass ceiling. Many years ago as part of a school assignment she had adopted a corner of the attached greenhouse, creating a nursery of exotic plants, all with medicinal, magical properties. Cedric had helped her greatly with the project, and she received high marks. The king was so please, he not only allowed her garden to stay but to flourish, taking over most of the southeast corner of the conservatory. And Cedric always liked it because it allowed him to forage for ingredients without going out in nasty weather, like today.

Her heart gave a warning squeeze at the thought of seeing him. Not now, not like this, not hanging off Sebastian's arm like a brainless ninny. She began to panic. "Perhaps, you'd rather see the stables, instead."

"Nonsense," Sebastian answered. "I would love to see a this place you treasure to greatly. Besides, it is so cold outside, and I do not wish you to be uncomfortable."

 _Uncomfortable_ , she thought wildly, _I'm about to have a heart attack_. She peered cautiously around but thick foliage made it difficult to see more than a few feet down the many pathways.

"Sofia, why don't you show Sebastian the roses?" Amber turned to the prince, explaining, "Daddy had a rose garden built just for Mother when she and Sofia came to the castle. He even had purple ones planted just for Sofia. Did you know purple is her favorite color?"

He smiled, giving Sofia a conspiratorial wink. "I may have noticed that, yes."

Amber's simpering smile turned into an undignified shriek when a large back shape swooped down from the rafters, darting low at Sebastian. The prince ducked, letting go of Sofia's arm to cover his head. "Look out!."

"It's alright," Sofia assured, trying not to giggle. The bird looped back around before perching itself regally upon her shoulder. Reaching up, she stroked the raven's chest feathers. "It's just Belladonna."

Sebastian tugged his jacket back into place, smoothing a hand though his hair. "Is this a pet of yours?"

"No," Sofia chuckled, knowing full well how Bella would feel about being designated a pet. Nearly fully gown, the bird loomed large, her black beaded eyes staring unblinkingly at the prince. Sebastian fidgeted under Bella focused gaze. "She won't hurt you."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Bella cawed.

Sofia didn't want to let on that she'd understood, or what the bird was insinuating. "I rescued her after she was attacked by a cat. We nursed her back to health."

"You never told me that particular story." Sebastian reached out tentatively to stroke the bird as Sofia had. But Bella snapped her beak at him, making him jerk his fingers away.

"You'll have to pardon her manners." The deep, deadpan cadence of his voice startled Sofia with its closeness. When she turned, Cedric was standing right behind her. The sight of him, though she had only been gone a week, sent a rush of confusing electricity through her stomach. "She doesn't like strangers."

Bella pushed off, spreading her wings wide as she turned a low swooping circle. At the last moment she tucked her up, landing neatly on the sorcerer's shoulder. Sebastian's eye widened subtly, taking in the sight of this strange, dark man. Sofia had never found Cedric intimidating, even when perhaps she should have as a child, but she looked at him now, trying to devise what Sebastian saw. Cedric stood a handful of inches taller than the prince, his mismatched hair and hooded eyes a distinct counter point to Sebastian's classically handsome features. Cedric's purple robes, fingerless gloves, and most especially the regal raven perched on his shoulder gave him an air of arcane mysticism.

She supposed the figure Cedric cut could be imposing, but she wanted nothing more than to burrow herself inside those robes to stave off the chill that clung to her bones. Sebastian regained his composure faster than she did, masking any unease with an aplomb befitting his rank and station. She knew why courting Sebastian was so easy: He was a warm, affable person with which she could converse on a range of topics, but she'd just now discovered the chink in her resilience. A sick feeling stirred her stomach, and she wanted nothing more than to push him out the doors, desperately wanting to avoid any reality that involved Sebastian and Cedric in the same room.

Sebastian straightened his spine, still having to tip his head back slightly to meet the taller man's eye. "I do not believe we have been properly introduced, Sir."

Sofia blinked herself back into the present, realizing she'd have to a make the proper introductions.

"Sebastian, this is Cedric the Sensational, our royal sorcerer." She couldn't help but smile with pride. She had bestowed the title on him as a optimistic child, but over the years he's earned it many times over.

"So, this is the sorcerer you apprenticed with?"

"Yes." She looked shyly up at Cedric through her lashes, unable to look at plainly him, since to do so apparently left her thoughts floundering. "Um, Cedric, this is Prince Sebastian."

Cedric looked down the length of his nose at the younger man, underwhelmed. The two men eyed each other and Sofia realized what Sebastian was waiting for. What he _expected_. But Cedric continued to gaze steadily back as if he didn't notice anything of note. Then Sofia knew he wasn't going to bow, not to Sebastian, no matter his title or rank. Sebastian didn't seem upset by the lack of respect from the sorcerer, merely befuddled by it, as if he'd never noticed something he'd taken for granted until he couldn't have it.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Sebastian stumble on. "You are the one who healed Sofia's hand on her birthday, yes?"

Cedric blinked slowly. "Yes."

Belladonna took a break preening her feathers to mutter, "Who else would it be, you idiot? Do you see any other sorcerers around?"

"I was unable to offer my thanks at the time," Sebastian said, "you left the party so quickly after that."

Cedric's eyes slid ever so briefly to meet Sofia's. She remembered instantly the scene in her bedroom: his mouth demanding and rough against her own, the bed post against her back as she trembled, coming apart from his insistent rhythm of his fingers. Blushing vibrantly, she had to look away.

"I would like to offer my thanks to you now." Sebastian extended his hand.

Cedric's eyebrow rose, looking down at the younger man. It was rare for a member of royalty to shake hands with a subordinate. It was a true show of respect, not that Cedric cared, but it did speak to Sebastian's character. With a light smile that was more smirk, Cedric took the offered hand, knowing full well his own were covered with dirt and grime from digging in the garden. Sebastian might be a man of honor, but Cedric wasn't above a little pettiness.

"It was the very least I could do."

To the prince's credit, he lowered his hand, not even looking at the muddy residue left on his palm.

"What are you doing in here?" Sofia asked, hoping to ease the tension. Behind her she could hear Amber huff impatiently.

"Collecting Sagittaria petals," Cedric answered. "My stores were running low."

Sofia peered into the basket she'd just noticed at his side. She recognized at least half a dozen types of herbs and flowers. "That's more than Sagittaria in there."

""Yes." If Sofia didn't know any better she would say he looked chagrined. Or perhaps guilty. "I've been doing some inventory, restocking the kingdom's stores."

She frowned. He was never so fastidious. Usually she had to goad him into organizing and stocking his supplies. "Are you preparing for something?"

"Perhaps," he answered carefully, "that is a subject for another time. I don't wish to bore you, Your Highness."

Amber piped up, intoning pointedly."I'm sure Cedric has better things he could be doing right now."

"Yes," Sebastian added affably. "We should not take up any more of this man's time. It was nice to meet you, Mister Ceedrick."

Sofia opened her mouth, snapping at the exact moment that Cedric growled. "It's Said-rick." Their eyes met and she held his gaze for a moment, half tempted to laugh. Instead she settled quirky smile that was more a smirk.

"My apologies," Sebastian looked between them. "Mister Cedric."

The sorcerer looked the prince over one more time, as if assessing some internal appraisal. The little muscle of his jaw jumped, minutely telling how hard he was clenching his teeth. For weeks Cedric had treated her with bland politeness, as if his confession of love had cured him of the emotion and he no longer felt much for her at all. She suspected - _hoped_ \- it was an act, but it was hard to believe when he played the part so convincingly. Now she wondered what was passing though his mind as he took in the man he'd all but instructed she marry for her own good.

All of a sudden she realized her pulse had risen in the back of her throat. Anticipation, she realized, but for what she wasn't sure. She wanted him to do something - _anything_ \- that proved he still cared for her. That she could still affect him.

"I shall take my leave then. Princess Amber. Prince Sebastian." The name came out only slightly strangled and Sofia couldn't be sure that she heard him clearly, or only hoped she did. He inclined his head in a slight bow to her, and her only. "Good day, Princess."

Sofia wrestled with her disappointment, the anxious vibration in her blood fizzling to nothing. Cedric was simply walking away. By the time Sofia turned around, all she could see was his retreating back. "Good day, Cedric."

He paused briefly, meeting her eyes over his shoulder for only a moment. Then he turned away and strode out the door. Sofia turned back to Sebastian with effort.

"He seems nice," Sebastian said, completely unaware of any subtext. "Bit of an odd man, but certainly competent, I'm sure."

"He's more than competent," Sofia snapped, taking the prince by surprise. She'd never spoken in anything but dulcet, somber tones to him before. "Cedric is one of the greatest sorcerers in the realms."

Sebastian blinked, startled. "O-of course. I am sure he is. I did mean to insult your mentor. I am sure you admire him."

A small voice told her she should keep her mouth shut. Instead she lifted her chin, putting a thread of steel into her voice. "I hold him in the highest regard."

"Well," Sebastian smile agreeably, taking her hand in his own. "He is a lucky man to have ally so formidable as you to defend him. I only hope to count myself so lucky."

Taking a deep, calming breath, she forced a smile onto her face. Why couldn't she love Sebastian? He was so sweet, so easy-going, so warm. So why couldn't she love him? Her eyes strayed to the bubbling pond where the Saggitaria were in bloom, their white waxy petals open, blossoming around deep purple centers, and she had the dizzying feeling that she already knew the answer.

"I shall miss seeing you," he said, his voice soft. The rolling cadence of his accent caressed each word while his eyes traced the curve of her face. His gloved fingers lifted to stroke a wayward curl from her cheek, tucking the strand behind her ear. There was a light in his eyes she didn't recognize. A rare nervous energy that made the pit of her stomach drop. "I have grown quite fond of spending time with you, Sofia."

He spoke her name with such reverence that she couldn't utter a single word. Anything she could have said would have felt like a falsehood. Sebastian's eyes flickered over to where Amber had wandered off, all but disappearing behind a stand of tropical palm, clearly unheeding her chaperone duties. Sofia suspected her sister was pretending indifference on purpose. And Sebastian did indeed take advantage of their relative privacy.

As on previous partings, he leaned forward, placing a soft, dry kiss to her left cheek, before moving to do the same to her right. When he leaned towards her Sofia froze. His lips pecked her left cheek before, moving to offer another kiss on her right. He pulled back, still too close. She failed to breath when he leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips. His own were warm and smooth and perfectly unobjectionable, but she felt nothing expect the wild gallop of her pulse, tattooing out a beat of alarm. She wanted to pull away, but she made herself hold steady. If this was the man to one day be her husband she'd have to endure much more than a simple kiss. He pulled back minutely before kissing her again. This time she tried to respond, tried to make her lips soften to his, but when his lips parted against her closed mouth, she pulled away.

He let her go, seeming flustered by his own boldness, but pleased.

"We should be getting back." There was an unmistakable squeak to her voice that made her cringe, but it couldn't be helped. "You'll want to be getting back home, I'm sure."

Amber seemed to materialize out of the air, suddenly back to playing chaperone. Sebastian blinked, seeming to remember himself. He appeared chagrined, but not put out. "Yes, of course."

The stroll back to the foyer was quiet and tense. Sofia gripped the fold of his elbow with nerveless fingers.

"It will be some weeks before I can see you again. But I will write as often as I can," he said, looking only at her face as if he were trying to memorize it. He bowed deeply, placing a warm kiss to the back of her hand. "Please give my farewells to the King and Queen."

He left go of her hand, turning to offer a bow to her sister. "Princess Amber."

Amber tipped a golden eyebrow up by way of acknowledgement, a knowing smile on her lips. "Prince Sebastian."

He looked at Sofia one last time. "Farewell, Princess Sofia."

When the door closed behind him, the blond was on her immediately. She linked their arms, offering a wide, unconvincing yawn. "Well, I don't know about you, but I am absolutely exhausted. Walk me to my room, won't you?"

* * *

They were halfway to their destination when she started.

"Sofia," Amber began as they rounded the corner to the hall. Her tone was trying for matronly, and Sofia knew she was about to receive one of Amber's patronizing I'm-older-and-know-better lectures, "As your older sister-"

"You're only a few months older than I am," Sofia interrupted, having a sinking feeling where this was going and not anxious to have the conversation.

"Be that as it may," the blond dismissed, "I am older and as such I feel it is my duty to educate you on the more mature aspects of courtship."

"Mature?" Sofia nearly snorted, knowing full well what that Amber was talking about. A true weariness had settled upon her. She just wanted to go to her room alone. It was so much easier to keep up the pretense when she only had to do so in short doses. "Just get to the point, Amber, please."

"Fine," the blond huffed, stopping in the middle of the secluded hallway. She lowered her voice to a scandalized whisper. "At the rate you're going with Sebastian, you won't be engaged before your thirty. So spill, what is the hold up?"

Sofia looked away, unsure how to evade the uncomfortable question without giving too much away.

"He's royalty, he's rich, and he's certainly attractive," Amber supplied. "Not to mention completely smitten with you. When you're with him you look about as lively as a wet rag. I'm all for playing a little hard to get, but if you keep this up, even the most devote man will eventually lose interest."

Sofia stiffened, stung by her sister's insulting assessment. Amber had succinctly stripped away the layers of her sister's pantomime romance, but instead of showing concern that maybe - _just maybe_ \- Sofia wasn't interested in the Royaume royal, instead she was suggesting that Sofia stop being so frigid.

"Oh, I'm not suggesting you," Amber lowered her voice to a stage whisper, "sleep with him. You have to keep something for after the wedding. Remember what happened to Cleo?"

Sofia was already remembering Cleo. The sweet-faced princess had been the unfortunate victim of gossip and hearsay. Princess Hildegrade was infamous for her numerous liaisons, but a master at keeping her lovers secret. Cleo tried to follow in her friend's footsteps but couldn't quite pull off the scandal with as much aplomb as the Freezenburg princess. At the time Cleo had been enmeshed with the son of a high ranking Duke. Their engagement was all but assured, until the boy called it off, _after_ getting Cleo into bed and ruining her reputation. She'd been hastily married off to an aging Viscount. Sofia had only seen her once or twice since. She appeared content, doting on her husband who seemed to treat her well, but really it could all be for appearances. Sofia had no way of knowing for certain.

Sofia sighed, wonder how best to fend off the uncomfortable subject. "Amber, I'm just not all that comfortable yet, being ... physical with Sebastian-"

"Obviously," the blond snorted. "I saw that kiss between you two. You looked about as aroused as a tree trunk."

Sofia cringed. Amber tugged on her arm to get them moving again. "I didn't want to say anything," she said, looking cautious around them, "But I heard some rumors about you this past year."

"Rumors?" Sofia colored and her heart began to pound. "What rumors? Heard them where?"

"Not here. Come to my room."

Despite the cool fall chill in the air Sofia began to sweat, worried what would make Amber so secretive. When the door to her sister's room as finally closed behind them, Sofia turned towards her. "What rumors, Amber?"

"This past spring, some people were ... talking about your ... behavior. I heard some of the other princesses talking about what happened between you and Kalvin St. James."

The breath she'd been holding whooshed out of her all at once. "Me and Kalvin? Nothing happened between us. I mean, I kissed him at the Kaldune May Day Ball, but that was it."

Amber huffed in irritation, showing a rare side of true anger and not just a haughty veneer "That lying scoundrel. Now I'm glad James punched him."

"Wait, what? Amber, What are you talking about"

"Oh, well," color rose on Amber's cheeks. "Nothing really, and I didn't believe it, mind you, but, apparently, um ..."

"Out with it."

"Well Kalvin told Axel who told Hugo who told Khalid who told Jun, who you know told Hildegarde that Kalvin said you did more than kiss. He kept the details vague, mind you, just insinuated. Nothing that would ruin you."

Sofia sputtered, feeling sick and used. "It was just a kiss! And not a very good one at that. I can't believe he told people we ... . And you said James punched him?"

"Well James called Kalvin a liar, which he was right apparently, and the two sort of got into a fight."

Sofia moaned in dismay, covering her face with her hands. But then she looked up at her sister. "What do you mean apparently? You believed him?"

Amber had the good sense to look chagrined. "I didn't think so. But earlier this year, you were acting so ... different."

"You noticed that? Why didn't you say anything?" Sofia stared incredulously into her sister's hazel eyes. Between Amber's admission and James's similar confession, Sofia was beginning to see how obvious she'd been. She'd been all but crying out for help for months. So why hadn't anyone spoken to her? Just asked her outright? She realized now she had wanted them to, despite her lies and the lengths she'd gone to, hiding her true feelings.

"Everyone noticed, Sofia. You were flirting with anything in pants. At first I was thrilled, thinking you were finally learning how to play the game, but then you seemed a bit ... frantic about it. And I was a bit preoccupied with Zandar. James and I talked about it, but he assured me it was all false and there was nothing to worry about. And then you began seeing Sebastian and everything seemed to sort itself out."

Sofia covered her face, moaning in dismay. She'd suspected that people were talking behind her back, she just didn't realize how much.

"Anyway, that's not the point," Amber continued, "The truth doesn't really matter, only what people _believe_ to be true. Plenty of people believe that you've been so shy with Sebastian because you're so smitten with him, and he's certainly never been one to kiss and tell, so he wouldn't spill even if you two were," she flushed, "together. But I'm sure Sebastian heard the rumors this summer. If you keep holding out on him, his interest in you just might start waning."

Sofia's nose crinkled with disgust. "If his interest, as you call it, waned because I haven't slept with him, then his interest wasn't all that true to begin with."

Amber rolled her eyes, making a disgusted noise. "I didn't say sleep with him. For god sakes Sofia, don't you even realize? Every time you two are together you look like your barely able to make yourself hold his hand, let alone have an desire to do anything else."

This new information both surprised and saddened her. She thought she'd been doing fairly well, putting a sincere effort into their courtship. She hadn't realized she was failing so miserably. And poor Sebastian, what were people saying about him, having such a frigid paramour? He hadn't pressed her for more, seeming to demonstrate an infinite patience with her, but what was it he really expected from her at this stage in their courtship?

"Look," Amber was saying, "It's not all that bad. Before this season, you'd barely shown any interest in a suitor. Most people just assume your shy and inexperienced. Zandar's friends with Frederick, Sebastian's brother. He told Zan that Sebastian told him-"

"I thought you said he doesn't kiss and tell?" Sofia interrupted, knowing Amber was the queen on inter-kingdom gossip.

"He doesn't," Amber hastily shushed her, "But he did tell his brother that he really like you. He's been hanging back, giving you space, letting you feel comfortable, but it sound like he's plenty eager, so again, what is the hold up?"

"I'm just not sure if I'm ready for anything ... physical yet."

"Why not?" Amber's nose crinkled into a naughty smile. "Everything I've done with Zan has been ... good."

"You mean ... have you two ...," she let the implication hang, astounded to believe it true.

"No," Amber answered hastily. "Not that. I told you, I have to leave something for my wedding night. But we've done other things. Delightful things."

Sofia fidgeted. That Amber guarded her virtue like a commodity was only natural, but so very like her. Amber was acting so secretive and salacious, she couldn't imagine her reaction if Sofia told her the truth: that she was no longer a virgin and that lack of education wasn't to blame for her feeble interest in seducing Sebastian.

"Look, Amber, I'm happy for you, but I'm just not sure that Sebastian and I are there yet."

"Are you telling me, that awkward kiss I witnessed is the most you tow have done? In all these months?"

Sofia cringed. Judging from her tone, Amber was shocked, if not disappointed. "Yes."

"See, this is what I mean. You've done more with Kalvin St. James than your own future fiancé."

Sofia felt herself becoming defensive. "That's because kissing Kalvin didn't mean anything. There was no expectations, no pressure to marry him. With Sebastian, I feel like every move I make is being scrutinized by everyone, which apparently it is." She stood up, becoming to agitated to sit still.

Amber blinked up at her. "I didn't realize courting Sebastian was such a trial for you. I just thought you liked him. You two just make sense. You're perfect for each other."

"Perfect for each other?" Sofia scoffed. "What on Earth makes us perfect for each other? Because he's a prince? Because he'll be king someday? When have I ever cared about those things? That's your dream, Amber, not mine."

The blond stared at her, surprised by this sudden outburst enough to be rendered momentarily speechless. Sofia was struck by the difference in her conversation with James. James who expected she'd never fall for titles and princes and riches. "It's never been my dream."

"But what about becoming queen? It's what we've been raised for. What we all want."

Sofia inferred that by "we" she meant princesses in general. She felt a weight begin to lift from her shoulders. "I'm like Mom," she realized the moment she said it, "I'd be just as happy running a cobbler's shop as ruling a nation."

"B-but," Amber seemed to flounder, unable to understand someone else's dream that diverted so far from her own vision of perfect. "You'd be so good at it."

"I'm good at a lot of things. What if I don't want to be a queen? What if I want to be something else?"

Amber drew back, horrified by the very suggestion. "Like what?"

Sofia thought for a moment, wondering at the possibilities. She'd been so trapped in a cage of her own making, worried about other people's expectations, convinced she didn't have a choice. A smile began to form on her lips. "I don't know."

"You don't know," Amber stood up, fairly stomping her foot in annoyance. "You'd give up the chance of a lifetime, the opportunity to marry a handsome prince, become queen of a wealthy kingdom, for _'I don't know'_. Think about what you'd be giving up, Sofia. It's not like a better offer is ever going to come along."

Sofia scoffed. "A better offer? What is this, an auction and I'm the prize? I should sell myself to the highest bidder. Is that what you did with Zandar?"

"I love Zandar."

"Exactly," Sofia cried, her voice rising. "And what about me? Am I supposed to marry someone I don't love?"

Amber blinked at her. "No, of course not, but you could love Sebastian if you just tried. I don't know why you're being so stubborn."

Sofia drew back. "You are unbelievable. Are you really so selfish that you can't recognize that what you want is not what I want?"

Under the golden tones of her face powder, Amber blanched. Sofia realized she'd crossed a line. People often accused Amber of being selfish, even petty, but Sofia never had. Not since they were children. Her immediate instinct was to apologize, but she felt she'd done too much rolling over lately, so she dug her heels in.

"Well, I'm sorry," Amber snapped, "If wanting what's best for you is being selfish. Don't worry, I won't make that mistake again."

She crossed the room in a huff, throwing open the door. Sofia recognized her cue to leave. Amber was being dramatic because her feelings were hurt, but Sofia felt outrageously justified in her own simmering anger. Who was Amber to tell her how to live her life? Who to love? Who to marry? Who was anyone for that matter?

With her shoulders back and head high, Sofia stormed form the room, barely giving her sister a glance.

* * *

Author's Note: So Cedric got to be in this chapter because of this whole idea I had of him rather pointedly _**NOT**_ bowing to Sebastian, a prince. I just loved that little _fuck you_ moment too much to let it pass by. I added the bit about Sebastian mis-pronouncing his name at the last minute. I just couldn't pass it up.

Fun fact: Sagittaria is a real plant. You might also know it by the name Katniss, which is also the name of a heroine from a little known book/movie series. :P I actually didn't know that when I picked the name. I just needed a magical sounding plant. It does bloom with white flowers around a purple center, which I thought was some nice imagery.

So some people previously questioned my characterization of Sofia, suggesting I was making her into an Amber wannabe. Yes, Sofia is acting much like her haughty sister at the moment. And some of you might be wondering what is up with her crazy mood swings. Did this just become an episode of I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, or something? No, she's just a young woman going through a bit of a crisis, not sure what to do. I wanted to get across the idea that Sofia up to this point has always been the "good" child. She's the steady, reliable one that her parents never have to worry about. She's never asked for much for herself, always taking care of others. But now that she's faced with wanting something she can't have, she's lashing out. I spent the first half of the story breaking Cedric down much the same way. Now I'm building him back up. Unfortunately for Sofia, it's her turn to be broken down. But, I must say, I am enjoying turning the tables around, having Cedric be the one composed and serene while Sofia is running around throwing hissy fits. (Although, her hissy fits don't involve setting anyone on fire.)

And, did I mention, next chapter is rated a hard T for lime. Chapter 22 will be rated M all the way.

Annnnnnnd, (I'll shut up soon I swear) I'm feeling like writing a Halloween one-shot (unrelated to Intoxication) any suggestions/ Ideas? Let me know in a review or PM me. :)


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note: Happy Holidays everyone!

* * *

Intoxication: Chapter Twenty-One

* * *

 _Don't panic  
No not yet  
I know I'm the one you want to forget  
Cue all the love to leave my heart  
It's time for me to fall apart_

 _Now you're gone  
But I'll be okay  
Your hot whiskey eyes  
Have fanned the flames  
Maybe I'll burn a little brighter tonight  
Let the fire breathe me back to life_

 _Baby, you were my picket fence  
I miss missing you now and then  
Chlorine kissed summer skin  
I miss missing you now and then_

 _Sometimes before it gets better  
The darkness gets bigger  
The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger  
Oh, We're fading fast  
I miss missing you now and then_

-Fall Out Boy, _Miss Missing You_

* * *

Despite the worries of farmers and lords alike, the frost held off until harvest time, allowing the crops to come to fruition. This year's yield looked to be the best in recent memory. Sofia found some small delight that the Harvest Festival would commence after all. She'd feared it's cancellation due to poor weather, and it was one of her favorite celebrations of the year. The day of the event rose chill, but sunny. She was just on her way out when her mother caught her in the entryway.

"Sofia, I was hoping to speak to you."

"What's up, Mom?" She finished tying the bow of her cloak under her chin, eager to be on her way.

Worry crinkled the corners of her mother's eyes. "I've been wanting to talk to you about, well , about everything happening lately. I feel like we haven't had a chance to catch up."

"If it's important, I suppose we could talk now."

The queen chewed her lip in a familiar gesture. "Maybe now isn't the best time. You're on your way out, and I want you to have fun today. Perhaps we could make a point to speak later."

"Of course."

"Good. That's good. But, while I have you, I did want to ask, did you and Amber have some sort of falling out? Things seem a little frosty between you."

"Yes," the princess sighed, "We had a bit of a fight last week, just after the return from Tangu. I think I may have been a little harsh with her."

"You? Too harsh on your sister?"

"We disagreed about something, but in her own way, I know Amber was only looking out for me."

"Anything I can help with?" Her mother asked sincerely, perhaps even eagerly.

"Not really." Sofia's smile was sympathetic. She used to tell her mother everything, but not anymore, something her mother was aware of surely. "Are you and Dad going down for the festival?"

"We're to survey the winter stores before watching the parade. I think James is already down there. I'm not sure where Amber is. She said something about being far too busy for a 'silly village fair'. Wedding preparations, no doubt."

Sofia felt a twist of guilt. She hadn't spoken to Amber since the day in her room. Though the fault wasn't entirely hers, she'd made no attempt to seek her sister out.

Miranda sighed. "I miss the days when you were all children and I could keep you under my watch. Sometimes I feel there's so much I'm missing."

Sofia's smile softened. "You don't have to worry. You raised us to take care of ourselves."

"I'm your mother," the queen replied, her mouth turning down at the corners. "I'll always worry. That's part of the job. And it's also my job to be there for you." She set a hand on her daughter's shoulder, looking her in the eye, "I am here for you, Sofia, no matter what. I don't want any of you to ever feel that you have to face things alone."

Now it was Sofia's turn to bite her lip. "I know that."

"Do you truly? I didn't think I needed to say it, but you can talk to me if you need to. About anything."

Sofia looked into her mother's worried eyes and wondered again that she didn't know more than she was letting on. "I know that, Mom."

A moment passed, but when Sofia refused to fill the silence, Miranda wrapped her in a hug. "When you're ready to tell me what's been bothering you, I'll be here to listen."

Her immediate instinct was to give a flippant response to cover the sudden tightness in her chest. But Sofia couldn't find it in her to lie, not when her mother was being so understanding. She just wasn't sure that understanding would extend to the truth. Not for the first time she wondered if she should feel ashamed, if not for losing her chastity, than at least for leading Sebastian on under false pretenses. Of the two, she felt worse about the latter. She couldn't feel shame for the former. To her mother, she simply said, "Thank you."

Miranda smiled sadly, "Where did my little girl go? It was so much easier to help when the problems were smaller."

"My problems were rarely small," Sofia scoffed honestly, "But you made them seem that way. The answers were so much clearer then."

"I only ever told you to do what was right in your heart, even if the answer wasn't easy."

"What if what my heart wants is not only difficult, but impossible?"

"Impossible?" The queen laughed lightly. "I'm surprised to hear you talk like that. Nothing is impossible, Honey, just something more difficult than others. Just know that I will always help you in any way that I can."

Sofia leaned into her mother's arms, hugging her again, tighter. "Thank you, Mom. I ... I think I needed to hear that. Or something like it."

"Always, my darling." Miranda pulled back after a moment, offering a reassuring smile. "Now, for today, try to have some fun, if you can."

"I'll try."

* * *

The reason the Harvest Festival was one of Sofia's favorite events was because she got to pretend to be a villager once again. Off went the fluffy ball gowns, tiara, and jewels. Today she wore a simple dress, cinched in at the waist and cut to her mid-shin. Woolen hose kept her legs warm against the cool October breeze. The chill air fill her lungs and caress her rosy cheeks as she walked the lane down from the castle. Carriages and carts clogged the bridge to Dunwhitty, bringing stores to the castle kitchen. Even from a distance the village looked quaint and festive, garlands and ribbons strewn from every house and shop. Carts lined the street, bursting with food and wares. Today, she'd do as her mother suggested; she'd shuck off the mantel of princess and simply have fun like any other young woman her age.

Entering the main road, a pair of sweethearts passed her on their way to the fair. The man tipped his hat while the young lady bobbing in a shallow curtsy. "M'lady," they offered in greeting. She smiled, nodding in acknowledgment. They looked no older than herself, strolling arm in arm, sharing flirtatious glances and quiet words. She watched them go, a wistful longing filling her. It was hard to imagine how her life would differ had she remained a villager, but she found it easy to imagine herself strolling casually down a village lane holding the hand of a beau, one of her choosing. One she cared for. One she wanted. She couldn't help thinking how a royal sorcerer would prove a high prize for a simple cobbler's daughter.

As a young child she used to play pretend, wearing her mother's apron for a ball gown. Jade, topped with her father's worn old hat and too-large boots, played the prince. Ruby, an old blanket tied over her shoulders, provided the obligatory wicked witch. The prince had to rescue the princess from peril, or sometimes they other way around. They took turns in each roles, but Sofia much prefered playing the princess sent to rescue the prince. The day her mother told her she was going to marry the king and Sofia would be a real princess was the happiest day of her young life. And she couldn't deny that many happy days had followed; many adventures, friends made, and wonderful memories that would never have happened had she remained the daughter of the village shoemaker. Perhaps she would never had cause to ever meet Cedric, let alone know him.

She turned her eyes from the smitten couple, wondering that she didn't feel more grateful.

Once inside the fair proper, Ruby spotted her, waving from beside the apple vendor. Jade was there also, picking out a pastries. Sofia hugged them each in turn, listening with interest as they caught her up on life in the village. Jared came to meet them, carrying little George in his arms. At half a year old, the baby looked around with interest, taking everything in with stoic equanimity. Being with non-royal friends helped her feel at ease, even as Jade inquired avidly after every detail of Amber's engagement. Sofia patiently relayed every detail. But when Jade's interest shifted to Sofia's own royal courtship, Ruby pointedly elbowed the other woman, interjecting enthusiastically about the sudden bout of good weather instead. Whether because they were out in public, or care for her feelings, Sofia knew they were avoiding the subject of Sebastian, and her ill-fated affair with Cedric. Whatever the reason, she was grateful for it. When she bid them good-bye, she promised to visit again when they could speak more privately.

She wandered about, not having much fun after all. Villagers every few feet stopped to greet her or give a respectful nod. She acknowledged them all with polite acknowledgement, but their deference only reminded her that she was no longer one of them, no matter how she dressed. In a sea of people, she felt terribly lonely. Dejected, she thought about just going back to the castle when she spotted Lucinda coming towards her through the crowded street. They hadn't seen each other since that day in Ruby's parlor. And while she'd probably be subjected to some uncomfortable questions as they caught up, Sofia needed the friendly company more.

As the witch neared, Sofia smiled with sincere warmth, but Lucinda didn't pause, throwing the princess into a tight hug that nearly choked the air from her lungs.

"Oh, you poor thing," Lucinda crooned, showing an uncharacteristic amount of concern. "How are you holding up?"

"Um, alright." Sofia stepped back, confusion plain on her face. Lucinda had no way to know what was troubling her, and even if she did, the witch was more prone to offering a stiff drink than a hug. Her motherly concern was worrying. "Why? Is there some reason I shouldn't be?"

"You mean you don't know? Everyone at Hexly's talking about it. I figured you knew. It's just a rumor for now, but ..."

"But, what?"

Lucinda looked around before taking her by the arm, leading them to a secluded place behind one of the gaming booths. "It's your sorcerer, Cedric. It's all anyone's talking about back at school. He's accepted a teaching position at Hexly."

"What?" Sofia blinked. "No, that can't be."

"Like I said, it's a rumor right now, but the whole school is buzzing with it. A former royal sorcerer coming to teach at a place like Hexly is a big deal. They say he's going to be Master of Potions. Professor Darvish was supposed to get that job when Professor Polax retired next year. Word is when Cedric showed an interest, Dean Trawler forced Polax into early retirement. Oh, Sofia," she gasped in sympathetic pain. "He's supposed to begin teaching at the first of the year."

Sofia's mind was sent reeling. She thought back over the past two months, over Cedric's strange absences, his meetings with the king, his detached demeanor towards her.

He was leaving. Cedric was leaving.

"But," she mumbled, trying to stop the accumulating wave of realization, "What about Enchancia? The kingdom needs a royal sorcerer."

Lucinda twisted one of her braids around her finger and Sofia got the sense her friend felt guilty. "There's been talk for weeks now. It's all been very quiet but magic handling families are all a bit inter-related. Almost everyone at school knows someone who's been approached as a possible replacement."

"And you're just telling me this now!" Sofia shouted, anger flooding her veins. It wasn't fair to Lucinda; this wasn't her fault, but Sofia felt suddenly betrayed.

"I didn't know if it was true," Lucinda cried in her defense. "You know how sorcerers are. They're always trying to make themselves sound more important. At first I wrote it off as a bunch of bragging and bluster, but when I heard about the change in staff ..."

Sofia stared hard at the witch, wanting nothing more than to rail at her, but she that wouldn't solve anything. Lucinda was her friend and only kept the news to herself until she knew there was something of truth to report. Sofia's shoulders dropped, the warmth of her anger leaving her. "It's true. He's really going."

Cautiously, the other girl drew her into a gentler hug than the last. "It looks to be that way."

"Why didn't he tell me?" She mumbled, feeling as pathetic as she sounded. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

The anger that had leech from her began to rekindled. _Why hadn't anyone told her?_

* * *

After stalking her way through half the village, she found him in the eastern fields, enchanting a crop of pumpkins. The vines of each plump fruit curled into an approximation of legs, their wide leaves acting as feet. The farmers watched in fascinated amusement to see their crops walk themselves into the waiting carts.

Cedric supervised, an aloof expression on his face, but when he caught sight of her stomping towards him, his right eyebrow rose with interest. She didn't stop until she was barely two feet from him.

"Your highness," he scanned her peasant garb, before looking to her face with the same bored disinterest he showed the vegetables.

Sofia's petite frame shook. Narrowly, she just managed to keep from slapping him. "Is it true?"

His aloof expression wavered. "Is what true?"

"Are you leaving Enchancia?"

His lips pressed tight with resolve. "Yes."

She stared at him wordlessly, a torrent of questions and words running wild through her head. There was too much to say, so she said nothing at all as her anger morphed into pain. "Why?" she croaked.

He sighed, turning back towards the fields. "You know why."

"Do I?" She snapped, her voice laced with feeling. "And how would I know that? We don't talk anymore. You've barely even looked in my direction in months."

"I thought it best."

"Oh," her laugh was low and bitter and wholly unlike her. "You thought it best. I wonder when people will actually start including me in their decisions of what's _best_ for me."

He continued on with his work, the last of the vegetables crawling their way into the waiting cart before men began to wheel them away, tipping their hat in thanks to the sorcerer who made their jobs easier. Cedric put his wand away in his pocket, regarding her from the corner of his eyes. "I didn't say it was best for you."

His answer brought her up short, pink patches of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She'd assumed his decision was for her benefit, a misplaced notion of chivalry; that he was falling on his sword for her. Part of her recognized that, of course, he should do what was best for himself, as she was doing. The rest of her rallied in anger, unable to let it fizzle into nothing. He'd turned and began walking away, done with his part in the harvest. She dogged his steps. He was a fool if he thought he could shake her so easily.

"You seem to be holding up just fine to me," she sneered, trying for flippancy, but sounding snide instead.

As they wove their way through the crowd of farmers milling about the edge of the fields, he sighed. "What would you have me do, Sofia? Would it make you feel better if I looked every bit as miserable as I feel? Believe me, the results would not be pretty."

His trademark sarcasm didn't faze her. "Well, you could at least look as if you feel something."

"Sorry to be such a disappointment, your highness." He wished she'd just leave him in peace. He didn't want to be having this conversation with her, especially here in so public a place. But then he'd had weeks to imagine how it would eventually happen, and they all ended badly. So here was a good a place as any, really. "This is the best I have."

How she found out, he could only guess, but really it was a miracle his departure remained a secret for as long as it did. When he first approached the king, this time armed with a plan, tendering his resignation for the second and final time, he'd been adamant that the news be kept quiet until his replacement was resolved and his new position assured. But if he was being honest with himself, really he feared a replay of his first attempt. If Sofia begged him to stay, he wasn't sure he could deny her, not matter how much he wanted - _needed_ \- to be gone.

"Well, you shall have to put in better effort with your new position at Hexly," her voice was laced with petty malice. He didn't blame her for her feelings, only lamented that he'd been the cause. She continued, "I wouldn't worry too much, though, I'm sure they'll be plenty pretty young sorceresses around to nurse your broken heart. That is, assuming you still have one."

He had to admit, she was good. She'd missed her calling as a mercenary, knowing exactly where to strike for maximum damage and effect. Here on the outskirts of the village they were mostly alone. He scanned quickly for anyone looking their way before grabbing her by the wrist, pulling her in close. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I can't bear to look at you because it hurts too fucking much? That I have to go, because the thought of you with another is so insurmountably painful that I can hardly bear it. And while I recognize the necessity, I cannot be made to stand by and watch it."

Sofia's eyes widened. Cedric rarely swore, but she was beginning to see a pattern of intense emotion. The last time he did so was right before he kissed her. She knew he couldn't do so here in public, but the thought still set her pulse to racing. Desire blazed inside her at his closeness, at the heat emanating his eyes. His love had never disappeared, or diminished, only been banked like a smoldering fire.

His words were as relentless as his grip, making her face what the nature of their lives was doing to him. "My only hope, is that with distance and time, maybe, eventually every moment of every day won't feel like torture."

"I'm only doing what you told me to," she murmured, needing to make him understand that duty was all that bound her on her course. A course he helped forge.

"I know." His grip loosened, eyes closing to steady himself. "Believe me, I know that. And I am only doing what I have to."

"I thought ... I feared you didn't love me after all."

"Sometime I wish I didn't," he huffed, "My life would be so much easier. But I do, and I can't seem to stop, no matter how much I tell myself no good will come from it."

Her eyes caught his, and she knew that naked longing was pouring from her own. At the moment she didn't care about titles or duty, only Cedric mattered. Only this pain they shared, and how they might slake it even for a moment. His eyes flitted down to her lips and she swayed forward, shamefully eager.

He released her abruptly, turning away as his long strides left her behind. Embarrassment flashed through her, followed quickly by annoyance. He was always running away from her. She gathered up her skirts and chased after him, jogging to keep up. As he climbed into one of the waiting royal carriages, she piled in after him, unwilling to let him get away.

"Are you going back to the castle, Princess?" The coach man asked, trying to cover his confusion.

"Yes," Sofia answered at the exact moment Cedric said, "No." The coachman's eyes flickered between them before stopping on Sofia's stubborn expression. She gave a terse nod and he hurried to shut the carriage door. Cedric glowered at her.

"What?" she canted her chin up stubbornly. "Being princess does have a few advantages."

The coach jostled into motion, taking to the sky to avoid the congested streets. Silence stretch out between them as Sofia glared stubbornly at his profile. He gazed resolutely out the window, his fingers drumming over his knees the only sign of his agitation.

Finally, he found something to say that he thought might help. "You appear to have adapted well enough. You and _Sebastian_ seem to be getting on quite well. I expect, as everyone does, that you're marriage will be forth coming." He managed to keep the edge of bitterness from his tone, but he continued to gaze out the window as he couldn't hide the pain that tightened the corners of his mouth.

"I haven't adapted," she snapped with a surprising hostility. "I'm only doing what's expected of me. By everyone. Including you."

He hazarded a glance at her. Her pretty face was twisted into a frown, her brow creased with displeasure. This unfavorable temperament did not suit her and that she felt so bitter gave him no comfort or justification. Instead he felt a kindred sympathy.

He tried to offer her something of comfort, even if it cost him much to say it. "This prince, he obviously cares a great deal for you."

"Don't you think I know that?" She implored, sounding defensive and anguished at once.

Gods, he never meant to make her so unhappy. The desperate misery in her eyes was killing him. He felt her pain like his own wound. Did he want to know? Could he stand to know? "Then why are you not happy with him?"

"Because I don't love him!" She shouted. She searched his face for some response, some emotion to match her own. The feelings inside her felt like they were ready to burst out, and she couldn't contain them any longer. "I can't love him," she realized, "Because I'm in love with you."

The moment the words left her lips she knew them to be absolutely true.

Cedric stared in stunned silence, a subtle war of emotion crossing his face. "You shouldn't," he whispered.

She turned her head away, scoffing softly. When her eyes came back up to his, he knew he was in dire trouble. "I just realized how tired I am of other people telling me what to do."

He saw the truth plain on her face, and tried not to feel the wild surge of elation that reared up inside him, so strong it made him lightheaded. She turned towards him, her eyes similarly taking in his features. In a moment she was leaning forward, and he couldn't stop himself from coming to meet her. Whatever he might have said in reply was lost when she closed the distance between them, smothering his mouth with her own and driving him back against the coach seat. He groaned when she scrambled atop his lap. She kissed him frantically, obviously afraid that if she let up he'd push her away.

His pulse roared in his ears, pounding out a rising tempo of need in his groin. He tore his mouth away, but only long enough to murmur, "Tell me again."

"I love you," she mumbled against his lips, before delving her tongue back inside his mouth.

He grasped her, clutching tightly. He should be pushing her away, but there was no chance of that now. Her desperate confession tore open the chasm of his need for her. He'd barely held on these past weeks, reminding himself almost every minute of every day that he needed to stay the course and follow the route he'd set her on. She was better off without him. But it was difficult to remember why when her willing body was writhing on his lap, grinding the soft, warm place between her legs against his quickly stiffening arousal.

She moaned softly, unhinging his sanity completely. He pulled her down, forcing her knees wide as she rocked against his lap. When she pulled away to breath, he moved to pepper her throat with kisses. His hands caressed her back restlessly. "Again," he commanded, needing to hear it.

Her hips rolled, and she knew her drawers were sodden. This time she whimpered, "I love you. I love you. I lov-"

He silenced her, fingers tangled in her hair, holding her tightly as his mouth bruised hers. Completely insensible, he was ready to shove her drawers aside and loosen his pants to tumble her right in the false privacy of the rocking coach. The tempting fantasy of Sofia riding him was cut abruptly short when the coach dropped, telling them both that they were descending and would land in a moment.

"Come with me," She panted.

"Where?" He would gladly followed her to hell at that moment if she asked.

"My room," she kissed him again and again. "Don't say no. Please."

There was no resistance left in him. Turning her away after her birthday ball took everything he had. Nodding, he pressed his lips to hers quickly. "Alright."

A violent jostle warned him that they'd touched down. He shoved her off him only a moment before the coachman opened the carriage door.

Sofia glared at Cedric, blowing a loose curl off her face. He ignored her, using all his concentration to appear unfazed in front of their audience. He said a silent prayer to any listening deity for the concealing folds of his robes. Sofia climbed out behind him, eschewing the outstretched hand of the footman.

"Will you be returning to the festival, Miss?"

"No," she barked, before recognizing her rudeness. "I mean, no thank you. I think I'll lie down for a bit. Please tell Mister Baileywick that I don't wish to be disturbed."

The servant bowed smartly, climbing back up on the raisers as the coach clicked off to the stables.

They stood on the steps together, alone except the late autumn breeze.

"We really shouldn't," he said, already turning towards her.

Her hungry gaze threatened to swallow him whole. The mingled pain and need in her eyes was not the petulant, fickle craving of a child, but the quite, resolute desperation of a woman. "I want you, Cedric. But I am through begging you to love me."

She gathered up her skirts, stomping up the stairs. He vacillated for a moment, knowing what he _should_ do, but he was so tired of denying her.

He turned and followed.

It didn't change anything, he knew, but, for the moment the pain that would surely follow seemed a small price to pay. She waited at the castle entrance, just inside the door, her chin tilted up with stubborn pride. Taking a moment to meet her eyes, he found them free of pleading or tears. It was his choice, he could either come to her willingly or walk away, but the choice was his.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind them.

* * *

Author's Note: I didn't actually mean to leave the ending ambiguous whether he accepts her offer or not. He totally does. Next chapter is rated M. ;-)

If anyone feels the scene where Sofia confesses her love and Cedric demands she repeat the words seems familiar, that's because it is similar to Cedfia123's fic Free ch 9. At the time that she posted that chapter I had already written my scene. I messaged her, sent her my excerpt and asked if she thought I should change it. She gave me the go ahead to keep it the same.

And about Cedric leaving, that was always the plan from the beginning. When I started this story, over a year ago, I was still under the impression that he was an only child, so I didn't take into account the family line in his resignation. I feel like a bit of a cop out, but for the sake of finishing this story, I'm just fudging it. In this version there is no Calista to consider passing on the title of royal sorcerer. I figure you guys will forgive me in the interests of completing the damn story already. :P

For anyone who might be wondering, my update priorities are: Intoxication ch 22, then Lover Mine ch 12, then Into the Darkness Part II. But, best laid plans and all that ...

As always, your reviews make my day. :)


	22. Chapter 22

Author's Note: I would have had this chapter out sooner but by the time I was to editing I got a nasty head cold that gummed up the works. Honestly, though, this is one of those chapters that I'm not sure I'll ever be satisfied with. So many moving parts. Here's hoping it all flows well. Enjoy :)

Oh, and I don't often suggest you actually listen to the songs I post before each chapter, but seriously, this is a beautiful song.

* * *

Intoxication: Chapter Twenty-Two

* * *

 _I wouldn't leave you,_

 _I would hold you,_

 _When the last day comes._

 _What if you need me,_

 _Won't you hold me,_

 _On the last day-_

 _Our last day._

\- Jasmine Thompson, _Willow_

* * *

Sofia boldly threaded her fingers through Cedric's as they hastened down the empty corridor. There was an energy and urgency between them that couldn't be diminished by the looming threat of discovery. With the harvest festival going on and the kitchens open to accept new stores, the castle proper was largely abandoned for the afternoon.

For Cedric, once he'd decided, his course was set. Morals, conscience, and guilt be damned, if she was offering, he was bloody well going to have her. They barely made it inside her room before he shoved her back, pinning her between the door and his lean, hungry body. His mouth was on hers instantly, devouring the soft, needy sounds rising from the back of her throat.

Sofia felt drunk with sensation, intoxicated by the mere thought of where this interlude would lead. This time there would be no interruptions, no stab of consciousness to stay their ardor for one another. Tomorrow, she promised silently, tomorrow she'd be Sofia the First, proper, chaste princess of Enchancia. But here, now, she was simply Fee, a woman secreted away with the man she loved. She groped blindly along the door, twisting the lock.

He made short work of the lacing of her dress and she thanked the listening gods that she wasn't cosseted in the usual complicated vestments of royalty. Only the heavy fabric of her outer dress and her shift lay between his insistent hands and her nudity. A shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the wind whistling outside the window panes.

Cedric felt her shudder and misinterpreted it. She almost stopped him when he paused from disrobing her to dig inside his pocket. With the careless negligence of someone who'd performed the same motion so many times it was second nature, he flicked his wand in the vague direction of a fire place, murmuring, "Ignis," in the breath between one kiss and another. A cozy fire crackled to life, burning off the cool chill of the room. He carelessly tossed the wand over his shoulder, making her giggle as she heard it clatter to the floor. He didn't give her time to enjoy her mirth as his kisses stole her breath, igniting a fire of their own inside her stomach.

With some tugging and maneuvering she helped him pull her dress over her head. The tips of her breast tightened immediately, tingling from a mixture of cool air and the heated caress of his gaze through her shift. She tore that off too, eager to feel his hands on her bare skin. There she froze, naked from the waist up while he remained fully dressed. He appeared to recognize the same, as he took her in with unabashed attention, shrugging off his robes. Nervous to be examined so intently, she reached for him, working free his tie before going to the buttons of his vest. She didn't recall when he'd taken them off, but when he reached up to caress her shoulders, his gloves were gone. His urgency softened, melting into patience as his fingers skated down the backs of her arms. He kissed her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek. By the time he captured her mouth, his hands encircled her waist, thumbs skimming the under sides of her breasts.

She tugged the tails of his shirt from of his pants, working free the last button. Brazenly she pressed her bared breasts against his chest, wanting more.

The was no censure, only amusement in his voice when he pulled back to say, "With all your schooling, haven't you learned yet that patience is a virtue?"

Her answering smirk sent a pang of devious pleasure racing through him. She rubbed her lips across his in a light caress before sinking her teeth into his bottom lip. He groaned, his knees going weak. "At the moment," she whispered, setting his tingling lip free. "I'm not feeling particularly virtuous, which is working very much in your favor."

"Indeed," he agreed amiably. Still, he stayed her hands when they would have removed the rest of her under things. The husky quality of his voice had her body tightening with anticipation. "Allow me."

Sofia swallowed, her heart beating hard when his fingers landed lightly on her hips and his mouth trailed warm, wet kisses down her throat. As if with a mind of their own, her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him close when he kissed one breast, then the other. He didn't stop to linger, making her squirm with frustration and unfulfilled desire. When he dropped to his knees, her thighs clenched, inferring his intended destination. She gazed down at him, feeling a potent mix of power and arousal rushing through her to see this dark and powerful sorcerer kneeling at her feet. His eyes held hers as he slid her bloomer slowly down. He tossed them aside before removing her stockings one at a time, kissing the tops of each thigh as it was revealed. He looked like a disciple worshiping at the altar of a pagan goddess and his devotion awaken a hidden, deeply primitive desire inside her, to be loved completely, body and soul. She caressed his head, carding her fingers through his hair as he raised up to kiss her belly with beatific grace. His lips traced a trail of fire down to the nest of fine, dark curls. She leaned back against the door for balance when he lifted one of her legs, anchoring it over his shoulder.

Sofia cried out softly as he kissed her, working his tongue deftly between her folds to find the dark heart of her sex. Her eyes fluttered up towards the ceiling, lost in sensation. He took his time pleasing her, tracing every soft, sensitive hollow. She hissed through her teeth when she felt his lips move over her swollen bud, teasing it with soft strokes of his tongue. Her legs shook and she feared she might fall into a graceless heap, but the feelings he was creating in her were too intriguing to stop. When he sank a pair of slender fingers into her melting core, she came once, twice, three times before he was satisfied enough to pull away. Shaking, she managed her way over to the bed before her legs gave way.

Cedric stood at the bed's edge, pulling off shirt and vest before working free the lacing of his breeches. Sofia sat forward caressing his bare chest with her hands and then her lips. He let out a sharp groan when her tongue flicked over his nipple. The first time they'd made love she had little opportunity to explore him; now she wished to memorize him, to commit his body, his voice, his taste to memory.

"Can I do the same to you?" She asked, almost shy, but determined to feel no shame for her desires.

His brows quirked together in questions, eyes searching her face. She stared steadily back, appraising every bit of his body. Her bold regard couldn't help but fill him with a self-conscious apprehension. He feared he would prove disappointing, but the hungry glint to her blue eyes said she found him anything but lacking.

"Can I kiss you," her fingertips trailed over the front of his pants, "here?"

"I-if you want," he stuttered, unable to accept one of his deepest fantasies come to life.

The wicked sparkle that lit her eyes stalled the breath in his lungs. She tugged his pants down over his narrow hips, allowing his rather eager member to spring free. When she bite her lip, a look of relish on her polished features, he found her excitement the greatest compliment. When she bent forward to lay a sweet kiss to his abdomen, the long tendrils of her hair tickled over his erection, causing delightful shivers of sensation shooting through his sensitive flesh. He tried to recall his own admonishments of patience as her innocent explorations threatened to burn him to cinders. His hand tightened against her shoulders, a groan winding its way up his throat when she wrapped a hand lightly around his base, and dared to dip her mouth down over the length of him. Her tongue traced him with beguiling attention, caressing very ridge and furrow.

Sofia rolled her eyes up, feeling out of depth and not at all confident about what she was attempting. A heady rush of power flooded through her to see him rendered insensible by her novice ministrations. Gazing up the long pane of his body, she saw his eyes clenched shut, neck stretched back, corded and long. She allowed his sounds to guide her, experimenting with pace and pressure, repeating those maneuvers that made him gasp or groan. Every time she enticed one of those guttural sounds from him, her sex gave a surprising throb of kindred arousal. So intent on pleasuring him, she wasn't prepared for his shadowed eyes to open directly on her bold gaze.

When he caught her watching him, Cedric felt a dizzying rush of lust that threatened to end him.

She gasped aloud, afraid she'd committed some mistake when he shoved her shoulders back, pulling her face from his lap. In the length of one breath to the next he was kissing her, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth. She didn't know why it surprised her, but she thought- _expected_ \- he might not wish to kiss her immediately after she'd just had her mouth on him. But then it didn't bother her to kiss him after he'd done the same thing to her. She found herself abruptly on her back, legs parted around his hips where he stood at the edge of the bed. Lost in their kiss, she vaguely registered when he kicked off his shoes and pants.

He collected each of her wrists in his grasp, pinning them over her head in a maneuver that both surprised and excited her. As he gazed intently down on her, a part of her wondered that she shouldn't be burning with embarrassment, exposed so intimately to his sight, but she couldn't find it in her to be ashamed. He examined her so intensely that she knew he was attempting to commit her to memory as well. He released her wrists, but she kept them still as his hands trailed slowly over her skin. His fingers danced over the sensitive crooks of her elbows; they skipped over her collarbones, treading tantalizingly close to the aching tips of her breasts. She pressed her chest up in blatant invitation, even as she held her hands still. She found herself enjoying the pretense of being at his mercy though she wasn't bound by anything except her own whimsy.

He bent his head over her, taking a pert, pink nipple between his lips, tugging gently before soothing the tender bud with his tongue. Sofia mewled, pressing her hips against his in desperation, searching to heighten the sensation of his mouth, rolling her closer to the elusive edge. Her needy squirming rubbed the wetness of her folds against his manhood. His heat warmed her, further adding kindling to the fire blazing inside, until he clamped a restraining hand down on her hip.

"Stop that," he growled. The rough timber of his voice sent a primitive throb racing down her belly.

"What?" She blinked, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No." He took a deep draught of air through his nose. "Not if you want this to be over momentarily, then by all means continue."

Properly chastises, she favored him with a barely apologetic look. But her obedience was rewarded when his hand wandered from her hip to slip between her legs. His fingers slid in and out of her in a exquisite promise of what was to come. His mouth came back to her breast, setting off cascading ribbons of sensation, feeding the fire ignited by his hands. Desire coursed through her in dark waves. Ever greedy for him, it wasn't enough; she wanted more.

"Please." Her voice caught on a sob of pleasure, and she no longer cared if she had to beg. "Please."

She was very nearly insensible, unable to articulate what she needed, but he seemed to understand. His fingers left her, but only as far as her thigh. When he urged her slender calf up over his hip, she felt her heartbeat jolt into an uneven rhythm. The hot, heavy length of him pressed against her core, branding her with the depth of his need for her. She was well prepared, more than ready to accept him, and he pressed directly into her welcoming heat.

"Oh god," she whimpered, unable to utter anything more intelligent.

This time there was no cheeky rebuttal on his part. He leaned over her, weight braced on his hands, overcome with the sweet reality of being inside her again. He took a long moment to gather his composure, very aware that this time there was no potion to intervene, to lessen any discomfort for her untried body, nor heighten any pleasure from some fumbling maneuver on his part.

Sofia splayed her hands over his chest. His pulse thumping against her hand mirrored the wild beat of her own heart. This wasn't at all like the first time. The infatuation potion had layered superficial quality over every sensation. It muffled any pain from her first time, and smothered her with raw sensation. But this, this was ... Her eye lids fluttered closed, testing the sensitivity of her body with a mindful flutter of her core. A moan wound its way up her throat. This was so much better.

She smiled wide, unable to demur her elation. She exalted in all the tiny sensations: the warmth of his skin against hers, the telling rasp of his breath against her face, the delicious stretch of her hips, opened wide where her legs wrapped around him; the only thing she found lacking was his reluctance to move.

"Cedric," she said, finding her voice surprisingly even.

He pulled his head up, perhaps a bit too fast, his eyes wide with dazed alarm. His expression morphed into one of confusion to find her beaming at him with a brilliant smile. She found his reaction utterly adorable, and giggled.

"Um?" Was all he could seem to say in response.

She wiggled her hips wickedly, making his eyes roll closed. "Are you going to move at some point?"

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. Love blossomed in her chest. She found him utterly fascinating that one moment he could handle her so confidently, bring her to the peak of ecstasy with his mouth and his hands, but still remain so self-conscious. She pulled him down to her, kissing him not out of desire, or passion, but of love.

Her kiss seemed to hearten him. The first shift of his hips was merely to adjust his position, but her head fell back in awash of sensation nonetheless. He pressed his advantage, rocking back and away before thrusting forward. She mewled in contentment, her nails biting pale crescent moons into his shoulders.

"Oh," she sighed.

She lifted her hips in a mute plea and he obliged her, utterly confounded that this beautiful creature found him so pleasing. He pressed against her until his entire length was seated inside her tight folds. She groaned, a sound guttural and raw and completely provocative. He found this uninhibited version of Sofia infinitely preferable to the tight laced princess in a regal ball gown. She could keep her murmured compliments and soft spoken replies for her peers, he wanted her moans and cries.

He kissed her, threading his tongue between her lips in a pale imitation of their joined bodies. She met him boldly. His Sofia, his Fee, didn't do anything by half measures. While she mated her tongue with his, her hips canted up, pressing her inflamed sex against him. It was his turn to groan, wrapping his arms around her as if they could meld into one being. He began to move in earnest then, no longer content to coax or tease. No longer worried that he couldn't please her without magical interference. No potion was needed to create the magic that existed between them. He never thought to find such contentment, such bliss with another, let alone the annoying slip of a girl that had grown into the most incomparable woman he'd ever known.

He refused to think on how he'd have to let her go.

Sofia arched against him. Primed from his earlier attentions, she found her body falling easily into a spiral of bliss, one deeper and incomparable for the added insistence of his body along hers. She quivered, her gasping mouth parted from his only by their breath. The hard, rapacious thrusting of his body sent off a cascade of tremors spiraling out from her core. She stifled her cries as best she could, mindful that a wayward moan could still bring a well-meaning servants down upon them.

Sparks of fiery pleasure threatened to incinerate him. He tried to hold off, ticking off a litany of obscure bits of potion-making lore to distract himself. He'd gotten as far at three of the twelve used for powdered fairy dust when her contracting muscles, squeezing and stroking him so divinely rent all thoughts from his head. Sofia continued to squirm underneath him, restlessly seeking more even as she clenched around him. Her hands scrabbled at his shoulders, down his back, even digging her nails into his backside in an attempt to draw his deeper, closer to her. Their mouths clashed and their bodies melded as the inexorable force of the connection between them sharpened every sensation to a brutal edge. Cedric rocked his hips against her, deep and hard, forcing cries of unholy pleasure from her.

Sofia smothered her noises against his lips, moaning into his mouth, biting his bottom lip in retribution; though there was nothing to atone for as she loved every second of it. Another climax, fed by intangible feeling of love and lust, heightened by corporeal sensation, threatened to engulf her. She twisted away from his mouth, framing his face in her hands to look into his eyes. "I love you," she whimpered. "I'll always love you."

His hips surged, steady and rough. He tilted his forehead down against hers, staring her deep in the eye. "No matter what happens or where I go," he managed to force the words out, difficult as it was to speak, "You will always have command over my heart."

"Tell me," she pleaded, hardly able to keep the more intimate contact of his naked gaze, but holding it just the same.

"I love you," he gasped. His hips began to stutter at the same time she cried out. Cedric's own climax came with a bittersweet force that shuttered down to his very soul. Sofia tightened and shook beneath him, hiding her face against his neck as she gave a low, smothered cry. He tried not to collapse against her, his legs turning to jelly. He caught himself on his elbows as he began to breathe again, trying to stave off the sadness that haunted the edges of his mind. Sofia's breathing slowed, but her arms tightened around his neck with a desperation that chilled him despite the heat from the fire and warmth of their lovemaking.

"Stay," she pleaded, not lifting her face for him to see, but he could hear the faint tremor of her need.

He kissed her temple, smoothing her hair back with a shaking hand. "I'll stay as long as I can."

* * *

The fire crackled, the only sound beside their soft breathing and the occasional shift of the sheets. Sofia lay wrapped in his embrace, simply attempting to soak in as much of his warmth and love as she could, stowing it away in the secret recesses of her heart. They hadn't spoken since his whispered promise. But the sun was just beginning to sink behind the tallest trees. The Harvest Festival revelry would go on long into the night in the village, but the castle's inhabitants would be back soon.

Cedric sighed, the sudden tightness in his arms a subtle tell that he meant to break the peace between them.

"Don't," she preempted, unable to admit the day had passed. "Just ... let's not speak now."

He nodded, nuzzling the warm, floral scent of her hair, understanding. Speaking would only put a blight on this soft, tremulous moment, brining to light harsh realities. They lay together for some time more, her bare back pressed against the warmth of his chest, while his hand lightly stroked her arm.

Finally, he pressed a kiss to the sensitive space behind her ear. "Sofia?"

She ignored him, pressing her eyes closed. She knew what he was going to say and didn't want to face it yet.

"Fee?"

 _Don't cry_ , she swallowed the down the lump that had risen in the back of her throat at hearing him call her that. _Don't cry, not now._ When she opened her eyes they burned, but they were dry. "Yes?"

"You know I can't stay."

She wanted to pretend ignorance, that he only meant he couldn't stay here in bed with her, but she knew better. He couldn't stay in Enchancia. Once she would have begged him to stay. Once she had, taking the selfish path. No longer.

Her exhaled breath only warbled a little. "I know."

She turned over in his arms, snuggling close to his chest. A now familiar feeling began to wind through her; whether the heat of his naked body along hers, the rare seclusion together, or the pain of saying goodbye, but most likely a combination of all of it, her heart began to pound as heat coiled in her belly. First she pressed a kiss to his chest, then his neck, then his jaw. She felt him respond, heard the uptick of his breath as he pulled her closer. Her breasts began to tingle where they pressed against his skin. Her lips continued on to his mouth.

Slowly he kissed her back. One kiss melded into another and another until she pressed his shoulders back against the bed, rolling them over so she was sitting atop his lap. The hard heat of him rested between her legs and she raised up enough to reach a hand between them and position him at her entrance. When she began to lower herself slowly down, Cedric groaned against her mouth like a man dying.

It wasn't at all like the hard, hungry mating that came before. She laid over his chest, her face buried against his neck as his arms wrapped tightly around her back. There was no need for words as their bodies spoke for them, making slow, lingering love. Sofia shuttered and quaked, losing track of how many completions she reached, as he kissed her throat, his hands guiding her hips when her legs shook, weak from exertion. Sofia kissed him through her warbling moans and hiccupping sighs as pleasure and misery clashed, threatening to turn her cries into tears.

The climax was still fierce but also sweet. Cedric pulsed warmly inside her as she stilled on his lap, her fingers curling tight against his shoulders while she moaned softly. They stayed that way a long time, neither able to break the waiting silence, but their arms, holding each other unrelentingly tight, unwilling to be the first to let go, said more than words ever could.

* * *

There was a stirring from beyond the door, footsteps walking lightly past so as not to disturb the resting princess, but soon the order of the household would demand someone intrude on their solitude, and it was best Cedric not be found here. Violet had not told the king about his intrusion on her birthday, but if she found him here a second time, she couldn't fail to report it. With a sigh, Cedric sat up and began to search for his clothing. Sofia sat up too, unabashedly admiring his backside as he slipped into his pants.

"Would you be so kind," she demurred, holding the sheet to her chest, "To bring me my clothes?"

The wicked twinkle in his eye, coupled with a knowing smirk made her flush clear down her neck. "I rather think you should collect them yourself."

Sofia raised her nose in the air with false aplomb, struggling to tug the large sheets from the bed. Cedric actually chuckled. "Never mind," he said, "I'll get them."

She bit her lip, warmed with love, imagining such little domestic scenes between them, before realizing it wouldn't be Cedric that she'd trade suggestive banter with in her coming marriage. As she tried to imagine doing so with Sebastian, a moue of displeasure turned down the corners of her mouth. She could well imagine that such playful teasing would come naturally to the prince, what she couldn't imagine was holding her mimicry of complacency through the consummation of their nuptials. Distastefully, she thought that if Sebastian got her with child quickly, she might hold off future relations for a time, such arrangements weren't unheard of.

She gasped aloud, realizing. Cedric, just bending to collect her dress and shift, turned. "What? What is it?"

Her eyes pressed closed and her head fell back in dismay. "Oh, I wasn't even thinking. Cedric, what if we've ... That is, as a result of today, I become-," her throat tightened with unexpected emotion, unable to finish the thought.

His lips pressed tightly together as an unreadable expression passed over his face, but he turned away before she could examine it. "Silphium," he said, his tone curiously flat.

"What?"

"Dried and crushed Silphium leaves steeped in hot water, drinking three cups a day for the next three days will prevent any pregnancy from taking place."

"Oh," her shoulders sank, the tension flowing from them like water. She should have guessed Cedric, with his extensive knowledge of herb-lore, would know how prevent any unwanted complications. He finished collecting her clothing, coming back to sit on the bed, his posture weary. She tugged her shift on first, feeling suddenly bashful. Then she crawled over the bed to sit at his side. Something made her say the words inside her mind, even though she knew it wasn't for the best. "If I did ... That is, if we had c-created a child, wouldn't that solve any problems? Not nearly so neatly or the way I would want, but it's a possibility, isn't it?"

Cedric turned his face up to look at her and she wished she'd kept her mouth shut. The mingled look of hope and pain mirrored her own, honing her feelings to a cutting edge. His smile, though, was soft with chagrin, "Do you honestly think I hadn't thought much the same before? It's unlikely your father would force you into a hasty marry with a not particularly choosy noble, as is often the case, but you'd be disgraced all the same. As would-"

"Any child born from such a union," she finished, nodding with understanding.

He made a sound of a short hard laugh, but there was no humor in it. "You can't imagine the fantasies I've had. Some so bold as charging into the throne room itself, declaring to the king of the damn realm that I'd already summarily taken your virtue and by all rights hold claim over you. But I can't imagine you'd be very pleased with me if I had."

"No," she agreed, "I dare say I would not be very pleased if you started demanding I be handed over for being used goods. Nor would Daddy, for that matter."

"Besides," Cedric took hold of her hand. "I never believed in such ridiculous nonsense, that a woman should be tied to the first man she beds. That is, if she doesn't wish to be."

" I don't judge my peers who've taken lovers, even less so over these past eight months, but I always believed that I'd have only one love all my life."

The corners around his mouth tightened. "Well, you're young yet."

She'd have taken offense if his tone didn't suggest that he was trying to convince himself more than her. She couldn't help asking with an arched tone," Have you ever been in love before?"

"No," he allowed.

"Then I do not believe my youth makes me naive. Some people want many lovers, and I don't begrudge them. I only ever wanted one. But then I guess I can't have everything, can I?"

He moved to draw her into an embrace, but she pulled away, afraid emotion would get the best of her yet again. She bent to retrieve his shirt, passing it to him. He put it on wordlessly.

Pulling back on her underclothes before drawing the dress over her head, she arraigned herself into a presentable state. She smoothed her dress down with shaking hands. "Have you ever wanted children?"

Cedric paused in buttoning his vest. "Not until recently."

Her startled gaze flew up to his, knowing without him having to say that he meant he'd thought of their children. Turning her attention to the laces at the back of her dress, she smiled softly. "I could very well image a little boy with auburn hair and your brown eyes."

Cedric's hands covered her and she released the laces to his care. He threaded them into a bow before smoothing her hair down. "I don't know, I fancied a girl with black ringlets and her mother's blue eyes."

Sofia melted back against his chest and his arms came up about her, holding tightly. After a long beat of silence, she whispered, "Are you sure? Perhaps it wouldn't be nearly so bad as you think."

Cedric sighed, replying with marked bitterness, "I would never force you to any decision, but consider that any child of class deviation is treated as an outcast enough without the label of bastard to go with it."

"And if we went somewhere far from Enchancia?"

"I decided long ago that I would not be the cause that alienated you from your family." His voice constricted as his throat tightened. "In the last few years I've learned a thing or two about the uselessness of estrangement in a family."

Sofia reached up to touch his arm, knowing the wound he must carry, never reaching closure with his father before his death.

"Besides," Cedric continued, "You're a princess, do you really think there is anywhere you are not known. Or even me, for that matter. I am fairly recognizable."

Sofia couldn't help a wry smile at the return of his sardonic humor. Out loud she said, without malice. "Damn you and your logic."

He sighed, resting his chin atop her head. "Gods, how I wish I had your optimism at times, but it isn't who I am."

This time when tears burned her eyes, the grief came a little for herself, who once believed she had enough optimism for the both of them. "Do you have Silphium among your stores?"

He nodded against her hair. She knew she didn't imagine the touch of sadness to his voice when he said, "I'll have some sent to you."

He give her one last squeeze before letting her go. Sofia knew then that their time together was at an end. He picked his robe up off the floor, shrugging into it before tying the sash. He stuffed the length of his tie into his pocket, not taking the trouble to put it on. Sofia unlocked the door, looking cautiously up and down the hall before motioning him out. Cedric paused there outside her door. Sofia couldn't help reaching up to straighten a wayward lock from his brow.

She drew her hand back, clearing her throat. "When do you leave?"

"The king and I have settled on a suitable replacement." How strange it was to hear him talking about being off accord with her father. "I think you'll like her."

"Her?" An unexpected jealously stabbed her heart.

"Down girl," Cedric chuckled. "She's a sorceress from Kaldune. Married, I might add."

She tried not to blush at her assumptions, and found something to say to cover her embarrassment. "What about Cordellia? Or Calista? Aren't they next in line for the position?"

"They would be, if either wanted it. But Cordellia wants nothing to do with it. She still harbors a deep bitterness that our father passed her over when he gave the title to me." He laughed with little humor. "That I have to believe is for the best. Cordellia was not made to serve anyone, not even a King's rule. And Calista is too young. I worried about holding the position for her, but she assures me she has no interest. And, honestly, I cautioned her against it anyway. She's far too talented to molder away the best years of her life in a drafty tower."

Sofia frowned, wondering not for the first time, how it must feel to live your life at the beck and call of a king.

He seemed to be studying her features, the subtle tell of her thoughts on her face. "It might surprise you," he said, "that being a royal sorcerer is not all that glamorous."

"No, I suppose not." And then, realizing it for the first time, "You'll be happier as a teacher. You've always been very good at it. But that's not all there is to it, is there? You're a very competent royal sorcerer, but you're not happy here. This isn't only about my impending engagement."

"No," he answered slowly, seeming to judge her face for disapproval or anger, but finding none. "No, it's not just that. I don't think I've ever been happy in the position. But lately, it no longer matters how well or how poorly I perform my duties, it all feels rather empty."

"Since your father died," she murmured softly, remembering that dark day almost three years passed. He did need to leave, for many reasons. Even still, she knew with a sureness that ran in her bones that if she asked, he'd stay. So she smiled and tried to speak brightly when she said, "I will miss you when you're gone."

It was the closest she could come to giving her blessing, releasing him from any obligation to her. Strong though she tried to be, tears glazed her eyes as she looked up at him, her breath catching. He moved forward swiftly, surging to catch her lips in one last, desperate kiss. Sofia made a sound against his mouth, a moan of distress, but kissed him back hard. When he pulled away, they were both gasping for air.

She couldn't speak, so she nodded instead, letting him know she understood, giving him permission to walk away. He did so quickly, never pausing to look back and she was glad of it. If he looked at her again, she might beg him to stay after all. When he was gone, disappearing around the corner, she knew she must return to her room and make herself presentable for dinner. To put back on the mask she'd gown accustom to and weary of wearing.

Wiping away the one treacherous tear that managed to slip down her cheek, she turned around, and froze. From down the length of the hall she found herself caught in the sights of Amber's amazed and disapproving hazel eyes.

* * *

Author's Note: Rut-roh, Raggy!

So, I decided to add Calista after all.

I didn't mean to make the whole conversation about birth control and babies so much of a focus of this chapter, but if they were going to get it on, then I felt I had to address the elephant in the room. Mostly the point was to express to you, the readers, that the solution to Cedric and Sofia's dilemma will not be pregnancy ex machina.

Fun fact: Silphium was a real plant, now extinct, that has been speculated to have functioned as a contraceptive in ancient times. Whether that is true, or how it was administered is all speculation.

And for any one keeping score: Ch 12 of Lover Mine is written, it just needs a few days to percolate before final editing. Blame the head cold.

As always, your reviews give me life. Please leave a contribution in the little box. :D


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